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THE  HILL  TRIBES  OF  FIJI 


A  Fisher  Girl 

gazing  sadly  seaward  and  praying  that  her  lover  in  the  turtle  fleet  may  escape  the  horrible 
penalty  exacted  from  those  who  fail  to  make  tin*  catch  demanded  by  the  Ratu. 

Photo  by  J .  H.  Waters,  Suva. 


THE  HILL  TRIBES 
OF  FIJI 

A  RECORD  OF  FORTY  YEARS’  INTIMATE  CONNECTION 
WITH  THE  TRIBES  OF  THE  MOUNTAINOUS  INTERIOR 
OF  FIJI  WITH  A  DESCRIPTION  OF  THEIR  HABITS  IN 
WAR  y  PEACE,  METHODS  OF  LIVING,  CHARACTERISTICS 
MENTAL  y  PHYSICAL,  FROM  THE  DAYS  OF  CANNIBALISM 
TO  THE  PRESENT  TIME 


BY 


A.  B.  BREWSTER,  F.R.A.I. 

Governor’s  Commissioner  for  the  Provinces  of  Tholo  North  &  Tholo  East  Sr  Deputy 
Commandant  of  the  Armed  Native  Constabulary  of  Fiji 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  MAPS 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

LONDON  :  SEELEY,  SERVICE  &  CO.,  Ltd. 

I  922 


Reprinted  with  the  permission  of  Seeley,  Service  &  Co.,  Ltd. 


JOHNSON  REPRINT  CORPORATION 
111  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York,  N.Y.  10003 


JOHNSON  REPRINT  COMPANY  LTD. 
Berkeley  Square  House,  London,  W.  1 


Reprinted  from  a  copy  in  the  collections  of 
The  New  York  Public  Library 
Astor,  Lenox  and  Tilden  Foundations 


Landmarks  in  Anthropology ,  a  series  of  reprints  in  cultural  anthropology 
General  Editor:  Weston  La  Barre 


First  reprinting,  1967,  Johnson  Reprint  Corporation 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


MY  WIFE 


AN  ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

My  grateful  thanks  are  due  to  the  Editors  of 
the  Field  and  Graphic  for  their  kind  permission 
to  reproduce  photographs  which  have  already 
appeared  in  their  columns  and  to  those  friends 
who  have  been  yalo  vinaka  (soul  good  or  good 
natured),  as  the  Fijians  say,  in  revising  my  manu¬ 
scripts  so  patiently  and  versifying  the  native 
rhymes. 

A.  B.  BREWSTER. 

Torquay,  July ,  1922, 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

Fijian  Treasures:  Tambua,  Yangona  and  Pigs 


A  Fateful  Tambua  . 

CHAPTER  II 

V iti  Levu 

CHAPTER  III 

CHAPTER  IV 

The  Resident  Commissioner 


Wainimala 

CHAPTER  V 

Ancient  Traditions  . 

CHAPTER  VI 

Polynesian  Adventurers 

CHAPTER  VII 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies  . 


Conscience 

CHAPTER  IX 

Everyday  Totemism  . 

CHAPTER  X 

Vunindawa 

CHAPTER  XI 

CHAPTER  XII 

The  Police  at  Vunindawa 


The  Lost  Legion 

CHAPTER  XIII 

12 


Contents 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Church  and  State  ........ 

. 

PAGE 

141 

CHAPTER  XV 

Home  Rule  ......... 

150 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Fijian  Women  ......... 

*59 

CHAPTER  XVII 

Birth  and  Childhood  ....... 

168 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

Circumcision  and  Tattooing  ...... 

177 

CHAPTER  XIX 

Marriage  and  Divorce  ....... 

188 

CHAPTER  XX 

Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce  .... 

200 

CHAPTER  XXI 

The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  and  Death  .... 

209 

CHAPTER  XXII 

Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery,  and  Witchcraft  . 

222 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal  ...... 

236 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

The  New  Religion  ........ 

249 

CHAPTER  XXV 

The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  and  the  Pilgrimage  to  the  God- 
Land  ........... 

261 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

Road  Making  and  the  Second  Tuka  Wave  .... 

273 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

The  End  of  the  Way  ....... 

287 

Index 


•  303 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


A  Fisher  Girl  ....... 

A  Lotu  or  Christian  Fijian  of  the  Present  Day  . 
Fijian  Armed  Native  Constabulary  . 

Girl  with  Tombe  or  Love-Locks 

A  Takia  or  Light-draught  Canoe 

Tinga  Throwers  ...... 

Lali  or  Wooden  Drums  . 

Bamboo  Rafts  and  Takia  .  .  .  .  . 

The  Vuramothe  or  “Causer  of  Sleep” 

Interior  of  my  House  at  Vunindawa 
Sunday  at  Nandarivatu  .  .  .  .  . 

Boys  and  Girls  in  Gala  Dress  .  .  .  . 

Boys  and  Girls  in  Gala  Dress  .  .  .  . 

Filling  the  Waterpots  .  .  .  .  . 


Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

•  32 

•  32 

.  40 

.  40 

.  64 

.  64 

.  80 

.  104 

.  120 

.  120 

•  136 

•  136 

.  160 


Our  American  Friends 


13 


176 


14  List  of  Illustrations 


FACINCJ  PAGE 


A  Rara  or  Village  Green  .... 

.  192 

A  Spirit-Haunted  Tree  ..... 

.  208 

A  VVesi  or  Spear  Dance  ..... 

.  208 

A  Fijian  Albino  ...... 

224 

A  Tholo  or  Hill  Warrior  .... 

.  224 

A  Satisfactory  Catch  ..... 

.  256 

A  Turtle  Fleet  ...... 

.  280 

A  Typical  Fishing  Canoe  .... 

.  288 

The  Flagship  of  the  Turtle  Fleet  . 

.  288 

NOTE  ON  PRONUNCIATION 


WHEN  Messrs.  Cargill  and  Cross,  the  pioneer  Wesleyan 
missionaries,  arrived  in  Fiji  there  was  no  written 
language.  They  immediately  started  to  construct  one, 
the  work  being  carried  on  by  their  colleagues  until 
their  labours  were  concluded  in  1850  by  the  Reverend  D.  Hazlewood, 
who  brought  out  A  Fijian  and  English  Dictionary ,  which  also  con¬ 
tained  the  necessary  syntax  and  grammar,  and  it  has  remained  the 
standard  authority  on  the  native  tongue.  Tradition  has  it  that  an 
eminent  Italian  grammarian  arranged  the  pronunciation  of  the 
alphabet  and  gave  it  the  sound  of  his  own  country.  As  this  differs 
from  our  English  way  it  has  led  to  much  cavilling  and  an  attempt  by 
some  modernists  to  introduce  a  different  method. 

A  in  Fijian  has  the  sound  of  that  letter  in  French  or  Italian, 
or  in  our  word  father. 

B  universally  in  Fijian  is  sounded  as  mb.  For  instance,  bebe,  a 
butterfly,  is  pronounced  mbemhe.  For  the  convenience  of  English 
readers  this  letter  has  been  written  mb ,  and  all  words  commencing 
with  b  must  be  looked  for  under  m. 

C  in  Fijian  is  the  equivalent  of  our  th.  Thus  ca,  evil,  bad, 
wicked,  is  pronounced  as  tha.  King  Thakombau  and  Tholo,  so  often 
mentioned,  are  spelt  in  Fijian,  Cakobau  and  Colo  respectively,  and 
are  rendered  in  this  book  in  the  English  fashion. 

D  has  the  sound  of  nd.  Thus  dada  rotten,  is  pronounced 
ndanda. 

E  has  the  sound  of  our  English  a. 

In  pure  Fijian  there  is  no  /,  but  v  is  used  instead.  However, 
in  Tonga  it  is  vice  versa,  and  the  Eastern  or  Lau  Archipelago  is 

15 


1 6  Note  on  Pronunciation 

largely  impregnated  with  Tongan  blood.  In  Viti  Levu  people 
talk  of  vakaviti,  or  according  to  the  custom  of  Viti.  In  the  eastern 
islands  they  say  fakajiji,  or  Fiji  fashion. 

G  has  the  sound  of  ng.  Hence  the  word  gadinana,  a  mother’s 
brother,  is  pronounced  in  English  as  ngandinana. 

H  is  not  used  at  all  except  about  nandrong-a  and  in  the  south¬ 
western  parts  of  Viti  Levu,  where  at  one  time  there  has  been  a 
strong  Tongan  impact.  They  employ  it  there  where  in  other 
localities  the  letter  s  occurs. 

1  has  the  sound  of  our  English  e. 

J  as  in  English. 

K  as  in  English. 

In  pure  Fijian  the  letter  p  is  seldom  used,  the  natives  employing 
v  instead.  However,  in  the  Lau  and  eastern  islands  of  the  group, 
where  there  is  a  strong  Tongan  influence,  p  is  used  instead  of  the 
v  of  Viti  Levu  and  the  western  portion  of  the  islands.  For  instance, 
vata,  together,  alike  is  rendered  pata  in  the  parts  nearest  to  Tonga. 
Words  of  foreign  origin  retain  the  p,  which  is,  however,  frequently 
turned  into  v.  Pusi,  a  cat,  in  Western  Fiji  is  usually  rendered  vusi, 
and  fireman  becomes  vaiamani. 

Q  should  be  sounded  as  ng  hard,  and  is  in  contradistinction  to 
our  g,  which  ng  is  soft  in  Fijian.  In  fact,  q  has  much  the  same 
sound  as  our  g.  Therefore  in  this  narrative  the  letter  q  has  been 
retained. 

T  is  pronounced  as  ya. 


The  Hill  Tribes  of  Fiji 

CHAPTER  I 

Fijian  Treasures:  Tambua,  Yangona 
&  Pigs 

TO  understand,  in  a  way,  the  working  of  the  Fijian  mind, 
something  should  be  known  about  the  things  the  native 
considers  most  worth  living  for.  The  white  man’s  toast, 
“  Women,  wine  and  song,”  is  rendered  by  the  primitive 
hill  men  of  Viti  Levu  (Great  Fiji)  as  “  Tambua,  yangona  and  pigs,” 
which  constitute  in  their  eyes  the  joys  of  riches,  strong  drink  and 
feasting. 

Tambua  are  the  teeth  of  the  cachalot  or  sperm  whale.  They  are 
pure  ivory,  intrinsically  weight  for  weight  as  valuable  as  elephant 
tusks.  With  constant  oiling  and  polishing  they  assume  a  very  hand¬ 
some  appearance  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  Fijians,  unacquainted  with 
gold  and  precious  stones,  they  seemed  the  most  beautiful  things  in 
the  world.  When  Great  Britain  assumed  the  reins  of  government, 
the  native  officials  were  paid  regular  salaries  in  sterling  coin  of  the 
realm.  One  of  them,  an  old-time  gentleman,  the  Roko  Tui,  or 
Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  Island  of  Kandavu,  requested  that  his 
recompense  might  be  made  in  Tambua  or  whales’  teeth,  as  in  his 
estimation  they  were  much  more  chief-like  than  mere  money.  He 
added  that  in  the  days  of  his  unregenerate  youth  he  had  assisted  in 
the  capture  of  a  trading  brig,  which  had  a  certain  amount  of  gold 
coin  on  board.  Not  understanding  its  value  then,  he  and  his  com¬ 
panions  utilised  the  coins  in  matches  at  “  ducks  and  drakes,”  which 
the  Fijians  play  in  the  same  way  as  we  do,  thus  dissipating  their 
fortune  according  to  our  own  homely  proverb. 

T angona  is  the  plant  known  botanically  as  Piper  methysticum,  the 
root  of  which,  when  pounded  up,  mixed  with  water  and  strained, 


1 8  Fijian  Treasures 

forms  the  national  beverage  of  many  of  the  South  Sea  Islands. 
It  is  better  known  to  us  as  ava  or  kava,  which  is  its  name  in  Tahiti, 
where  it  was  seen  by  Captain  Cook,  from  whom  we  derive  principally 
our  nomenclature  of  the  products  of  that  part  of  the  globe.  It  is 
mildly  stimulating,  a  soporific,  and  highly  valuable  medicinally  in 
certain  cases.  Speaking  for  myself,  I  always  have  found  that  the 
feverishness  and  inability  to  sleep,  engendered  by  a  long  day’s  exposure 
to  the  tropical  sun,  was  calmed  and  soothed  away  by  a  draught  of 
good  yangona ,  and  how  sweet  tobacco  was  afterwards  ! 

Kava  drinking  is  considered  by  many  to  be  a  disgusting  ceremony 
from  the  supposed  method  of  its  preparation.  The  popular  idea 
is  that  its  roots  are  chewed  up,  spat  into  a  bowl,  infused  with  water 
and  served  out  for  drinking  in  coco-nut  shell  cups.  That  is  the 
Tongan  method,  the  mastication  being  done  by  pretty  young  girls, 
whose  beauty  is  supposed  to  counteract  the  filthy  method  of  produc¬ 
tion.  In  the  beginning  and  middle  of  the  past  century  Fiji  was 
nearly  conquered  by  Tongan  adventurers,  and  they  were  only  pre¬ 
vented  from  doing  so  by  the  intervention  of  Great  Britain.  They 
succeeded  in  introducing  many  of  their  customs,  and  amongst  them 
their  fashion  of  preparing  kava.  The  ancient  Fijian  way  was  to  pound 
up  the  roots  with  stones,  and  the  whole  process  was  done  by  young 
men.  Priests  when  supplicating  the  ancestral  gods  and  praying  for 
the  welfare  of  the  tribe,  figuratively  mentioned  the  youthful  warriors 
as  ling-a  yangona,  i.e.  the  hands  that  brewed  the  yangona  or  kava. 
When  Fiji  became  a  British  Colony  the  medical  officers  objected 
to  the  chewing  of  the  national  drink  on  sanitary  grounds.  We  were 
at  once  assured  by  the  people  that  they  would  willingly  return  to 
the  orthodox  ancient  method  of  pounding  it. 

A  pig  is  but  a  pig  of  course,  but  they  were  the  largest  and  most 
valuable  of  the  Fijian  domestic  animals,  horses,  cows  and  sheep 
being  unknown  until  the  advent  of  the  vavalangi  or  white  foreigners. 
One  of  the  most  affectionate  compliments  ever  paid  to  me  was, 
when  on  one  occasion  I  was  likened  unto  a  pig.  I  had  been  absent 
for  six  months,  and  on  returning  to  my  district  I  was  greeted  by  a 
large  gathering  of  the  people  and  presented  with  the  complimentary 
gift  of  tambua,  or  whales’  teeth,  customary  on  such  an  occasion. 
The  Mbuli  or  head  man  of  Tavua  was  the  spokesman,  who  delivered 
this  little  speech  :  “  This,  sir,  is  to  express  our  joy  at  seeing  your  face 
once  more.  When  you  went  away,  who  can  say  how  desolate  we 
felt  !  We  were  like  unto  a  litter  of  little  pigs  bereft  of  the  old  sow, 
their  mother  !  !  !  ” 

With  great  lack  of  chivalry  my  friends  the  hill  men  omitted 


Fijian  Treasures  19 

women  from  their  list  of  valuables.  One  of  them,  Ro  Seru,  the 
chief  of  the  very  important  clan  of  Vunangumu,  a  notorious  old 
cannibal,  put  the  matter  succinctly  in  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Walter 
S.  Carew,  the  Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  East,  or  the  Eastern 
Highland  province  of  Viti  Levu  (Great  Fiji),  who  some  forty-five 
years  ago  had  so  much  to  do  with  the  pacification  of  the  erstwhile 
cannibal  tribes  of  the  interior.  “  Ah,  Mr.  Carew,  my  friend,”  ex¬ 
claimed  old  Seru,  “  women  are  no  good,  not  to  be  compared  to  a 
good  pig.  But  they  have  their  uses  in  the  way  of  cooking  food, 
plaiting  of  mats,  making  of  masi  (native  bark  cloth)  and  washing  of 
clothes.  As  I  observe  you  have  no  one  to  perform  such  offices,  I 
shall  have  much  pleasure  in  giving  you  one  of  my  many  wives.” 
The  Resident  Commissioner,  renowned  for  his  sense  of  humour  and 
ready  tact,  parried  the  embarrassing  offer  by  wittily  replying,  “  My 
friend  !  how  can  I  accept  a  gift  which  you  hold  in  such  small  esteem  f 
It  would  dishonour  us  both,  for  you  to  give  and  for  me  to  take  it.” 
The  old  man  laughingly  accepted  the  mild  rebuke  with  the  usual 
Fijian  admission,  “  That  is  true,  sir.” 

The  Fijians  say  that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  which  of  their  three 
treasures,  tambua ,  yangona  or  pigs,  they  prize  the  most.  In  explana¬ 
tion  they  cite  the  following  little  fable  as  to  their  quarrel  about 
precedence.  The  native  is  fond  of  politeness  and  ceremony,  and  to 
each  of  the  actors  he  gives  the  title  of  “  Ra  ”  in  speaking  of  them, 
which  is  equivalent  to  our  “  My  Lord  or  the  Honourable.” 

One  day,  Ra  Tambua,  or  My  Lord  Ivory  Tooth,  went  down  to 
the  pool  in  the  stream  where  he  was  accustomed  to  take  his  bath 
and  found  the  water  dirty  and  befouled.  “  Who,”  said  he  indig¬ 
nantly,  “  has  put  this  insult  upon  me  ?  ”  A  useful  boy,  within  ear¬ 
shot,  answered,  “  It  is  Ra  Yangona  (My  Lord  Kava)  who  is  washing 
himself  up  above.” 

“  Oh  !  ”  exclaimed  disgustedly  Ra  Tambua.  “  What  is  Ra 
Yangona  but  a  dirty  mass  of  tangled  roots  ?  ” 

“  Quite  so,”  replied  Ra  Yangona.  “  But  when  I  am  brewed  and 
await  the  pleasure  of  the  chiefs  in  my  great  bowl,  they  quaff  me 
with  pleasure  and  acclaim  me  with  loud  shouts.” 

On  another  occasion  the  positions  were  reversed,  and  it  was  Ra 
Yangona  who  complained  of  the  state  of  the  stream  and  was  told 
that  Ra  Tambua  was  the  culprit. 

“  Oh  !  ”  said  the  enraged  would-be  bather,  “  who  may  Ra  Tambua 
be  ?  He  is  but  a  senseless  misshapen  thing,  with  sharp  points  at 
each  end  with  holes  in  them,  through  which  a  piece  of  string  is 
passed.” 


20 


Fijian  Treasures 

“  Just  so,”  retorted  Ra  Tambua.  “  But  when  the  chiefs  congre¬ 
gate  for  great  and  solemn  ceremonies,  I  am  displayed  aloft,  and  then 
the  people  regard  me  with  the  greatest  admiration  and  show  their 
wonder  and  regard  by  long  and  reverent  exclamations  of  ‘  Woi, 
woi,  woi  !  ’  ” 

When  My  Lord  the  Pig  befouled  the  waters  of  the  stream  he  was 
stigmatised  by  the  other  two  of  his  rivals  as  a  dirty,  ill-bred  befouler 
of  villages  and  rooter-up  of  food  cultivations. 

“  True,  true,”  admitted  he.  “  Nevertheless,  when  I  am  cooked 
whole,  and  displayed  on  top  of  the  big  baskets  of  yams  and  taro  as 
the  mainstay  of  the  feast,  I  cause  the  mouths  of  the  multitude 
assembled  on  the  village  green  to  water,  and  they  greet  my  appear¬ 
ance  with  much  applause.” 

Pigs  and  yangona  are  the  same  to  the  Fijian  as  the  roast  beef  and 
beer  to  Old  England.  Yangona  drinking  is  really  of  the  nature  of 
a  religious  ceremony  and  partaken  of  with  great  reverence  and 
ceremony.  In  pre-Christian  days  the  first  cupful  of  the  brew  was 
poured  out  at  the  foot  of  the  main  kingpost  of  the  Mbure ,  or  tribal 
hall,  as  a  libation  to  the  ancestral  gods,  the  spirits  of  their  fore¬ 
fathers.  On  the  accession  of  a  chief  to  the  sovereignty  of  the  tribe, 
though  he  succeeded  by  hereditary  descent  as  a  rule,  he  was  not 
secure  in  his  position  until  the  clansmen  had  ratified  it  by  a  solemn 
ceremony  known  as  veimbuli ,  or  the  right  of  election  on  the  part  of 
the  people.  Chiefs  have  been  known  as  the  nominal  heads  of  their 
tribes  for  considerable  periods  without  having  been  confirmed  as 
such  by  the  free  choice  of  their  vassals.  Such  a  state  of  things 
rises,  sometimes  from  a  want  of  popularity,  and  sometimes  on 
account  of  the  expense  of  the  proceeding.  The  community  in  the 
latter  case  may  think  it  necessary  to  put  a  tambu  on  the  pigs  and 
other  kinds  of  property  until  it  considers  enough  has  been  got  to¬ 
gether  to  make  a  fit  display  at  the  great  pageant  enacted  upon  the 
occasion  of  a  veimbuli.  It  is  then  that  the  tambua,  yangona  and  the 
pigs  come  into  their  own,  and  make  the  great  show  of  the  day. 
First  of  all,  the  chief  mata  or  herald  of  the  tribe  stands  forth,  hold¬ 
ing  aloft  as  big  a  bunch  of  tambua  as  the  wealth  and  importance  of 
the  tribe  permits,  whilst  the  assembled  people  reverently  exclaim, 
“  Woi,  woi,  woi  !  ”  in  token  of  great  delight  and  admiration.  Then 
in  a  set  speech  the  herald  announces  the  decision  of  the  tribe  to 
confirm  their  hereditary  chief  in  his  position  of  supreme  authority. 
The  chief  then  touches  the  tambua  and  they  are  handed  to  his  own 
herald,  or  talking  man,  who  accepts  the  presentation,  and  returns 
thanks  on  account  of  his  principal.  Then  the  yangona  is  brewed 


Fijian  Treasures  21 

with  most  solemn  ceremonies,  all  the  braves,  warriors  and  elders 
sitting  in  a  circle  round  the  great  tanoa  or  kava  bowl  and  chanting 
the  tribal  drinking  song.  When  every  point  of  etiquette  has  been 
rigidly  complied  with,  a  flowing  coco-nut  shell,  full  to  the  brim,  is 
taken  by  the  cup-bearer,  who  dances  up  with  it,  with  fantastic  step 
and  gesture,  to  the  new  hope  of  the  people.  It  is  a  wonderful  per¬ 
formance,  as  the  bearer  of  the  bowl  must  not  spill  a  drop  and  seem¬ 
ingly  never  does.  The  chief  tosses  it  off  at  one  long  draught,  no 
heeltaps  being  the  order  of  the  day,  and  then,  when  he  has  drained 
his  cup  dry,  he  throws  it  down  and  makes  it  spin  on  the  ground 
before  him,  and  then  all  the  people  shout  and  acclaim  him  as  their 
Sovereign  Lord.  Then  my  Lord  the  Pig  makes  his  appearance,  and 
feasting  and  revelry  gladden  the  hearts  of  all. 

Whenever  a  new  Governor  arrives  in  Fiji  he  has  to  undergo  the 
process  of  the  veimbuli.  On  his  first  landing  the  colonists  take  posses¬ 
sion  of  him,  and  he  is  conducted  to  the  Supreme  Court,  where  the 
Chief  Justice  swears  him  in.  His  Honour  having  done  his  share, 
hands  him  over  to  the  representatives  of  the  natives  assembled  on 
the  parade  ground  of  the  Constabulary,  which  is  close  to  Govern¬ 
ment  House.  There  the  sacred  tambua  are  duly  presented  to  His 
Excellency,  who  has  also  to  quaff  the  yangona.  As  we  used  to  say 
out  there  shortly,  we  colonists  swore  him  and  the  Fijians  drank  him 
in.  As  for  My  Lord  the  Pig,  although  he  follows  on  as  usual,  the 
people  deal  tenderly  with  their  newly  appointed  Supreme  Chief  by 
eating  that  part  of  the  ceremony  themselves.  This  is  said  advisedly, 
as  all  who  know  village  life  are  aware  that  pigs  do  a  good  deal  of 
the  scavenging.  Besides  that,  when  brought  in  to  grace  the  feast, 
baked  whole  on  top  of  the  big  baskets  of  vegetables,  just  to  create 
what  the  Fijians  call  a  handsome  appearance,  they  are  hardly  ever 
cooked  right  through,  and  when  the  masters  of  the  ceremonies  have 
carved  and  divided  them  out  the  flesh  is  generally  boiled  before  it 
is  eaten.  The  custom  of  so  serving  the  pigs  is  due  to  My  Lord  the 
Earth  Worm.  One  day  the  animals  held  a  great  council,  and  one 
of  the  problems  propounded  for  discussion  was  : 

“  What  would  present  the  finest  appearance  on  top  of  the  big 
baskets  of  boiled  yams  and  taro,  and  add  the  finishing  touch  to 
them  when  brought  in  for  a  feast  ?  ” 

My  Lord  the  Earth  Worm  immediately  exclaimed,  “  Why,  who 
else  but  Mr.  Pig  !  ” 

His  resolution  was  passed  nem.  con.,  and  pigs  have  ever  been  so 
used,  consequently  there  has  been  never-ceasing  enmity  between 
them  and  the  authors  of  their  doom.  That  is  why  pigs  root  up  the 


22 


Fijian  Treasures 

ground  in  their  continual  search  for,  and  destruction  of,  those  who 
brought  this  woe  upon  them.  In  a  certain  way  it  is  recognised  that 
the  pig  is  a  dirty  beast,  therefore  in  most  parts  of  Fiji,  after  he  has 
been  slain,  the  flesh  of  the  snout  is  cut  away  and  he  comes  to  the 
feast  showing  a  white  and  glistening  array  of  bone  and  teeth  in  the 
region  of  his  mouth.  I  was  present  at  a  great  communal  gathering 
once,  when  some  of  the  villagers  brought  their  quota  of  pigs  for  the 
great  feast,  which  was,  of  course,  a  most  important  part  of  the 
function,  without  having  dressed  the  noses  and  cheeks  in  the  custom¬ 
ary  manner.  The  Mbuli,  or  head  man,  was  furious  and  prosecuted 
the  culprits  before  me  “  for  conduct  calculated  to  create  a  breach 
of  the  peace.”  He  was  one  of  my  old-time  friends,  and  had  fought 
against  the  Government  in  Sir  Arthur  Gordon’s  “  Little  War.” 

Although  the  Fijians  find  it  difficult  to  pronounce  which  of  the 
three,  tambua,  yangona  or  pigs,  is  the  most  important,  I  should  say 
myself,  as  an  impartial  observer,  that  the  palm  would  be  assigned 
to  the  tambua,  or  ivory  whale’s  tooth.  A  subtle  aura  seems  to 
emanate  from  it,  breathing  of  mystery  and  religion.  We  are  ac¬ 
quainted  with  the  word  tabu  and  its  uses  from  reading  the  works 
of  Captain  Cook  and  other  South  Sea  voyagers,  and  the  rigour  of 
its  laws.  It  represents  a  greatly  venerated  and  a  most  sacred  system. 
Tabu  is  the  Polynesian  or  Eastern  Pacific  form  of  the  word.  When 
we  come  to  Fiji,  where  the  Polynesians  meet  the  Melanesians  or 
Western  Pacific  natives,  it  becomes  tambu,  which  means  sacred  or 
holy.  Hence  I  take  it  that,  used  in  the  form  tambua,  as  applied  to 
the  teeth  of  the  cachalot  in  the  present  day,  it  means  a  sacred  or 
holy  symbol.  Long  before  the  ivory  tooth  of  the  sperm  whale  found 
its  way  to  Fiji  various  forms  of  tambua  were  in  use.  Inland  the  hill 
men  had  pieces  of  polished  hardwood,  cut  much  in  the  shape  of  a 
banana,  with  holes  at  each  end  to  permit  of  their  being  strung  to¬ 
gether  in  bunches.  The  coast  people  put  various  kinds  of  shells  to 
the  same  purpose.  It  would  take  up  too  much  space  to  go  into  the 
whole  history  of  tambua  here,  and  I  only  propose  to  deal  with  it  as 
I  found  it  in  my  time. 

Some  of  the  present-day  tambua  or  cachalot  teeth  are  of  very 
great  beauty,  having  been  oiled  and  polished  and  kept  in  the  seclu¬ 
sion  of  their  special  kato  or  baskets  for  many  years.  Such  are  looked 
upon  as  most  holy,  are  jealously  guarded  and  seldom  seen  except  by 
the  initiated,  who  know  of  their  existence.  I  once  by  accident  got 
a  fleeting  glimpse  of  one  of  these  venerated  objects.  A  chief  in 
paying  me  a  visit  saw  on  my  table  a  chalk  head  of  a  man,  which 
had  come  from  New  Ireland.  He  looked  at  it  curiously,  and  then 


Fijian  Treasures  23 

told  me  that  he  had  something  very  similar.  I  asked  him  if  he  would 
show  it  to  me  ;  he  said  he  would,  and  returned  in  a  day  or  two  with 
an  extremely  ancient  basket  woven  in  rattan  cane,  such  as  one  hardly 
ever  sees  nowadays.  Inside,  wrapped  in  old  oily  rags  of  bark  cloth 
was  a  rude  female  image  constructed  from  several  sperm  whale’s 
teeth.  The  main  trunk  and  head  were  carved  from  one  tooth,  to 
which  was  affixed,  by  means  of  leaden  rivets,  cut  from  bullets  appa¬ 
rently,  the  legs  and  arms  fashioned  from  smaller  teeth.  It  was  the 
most  cherished  possession  of  the  Matailombau  people,  and  was  known 
as  Ranandi  IV aimaro  or  the  Queen  of  Waimaro,  the  district  from 
which  the  tribe  supposed  they  had  emanated,  and  according  to 
tradition  it  had  belonged  to  them  from  time  immemorial.  It  had 
been  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  and  the  history  of 
its  arrival  and  the  source  from  whence  it  had  come  had  been  lost  in 
the  mists  of  antiquity.  It  was  only  displayed  on  the  most  solemn 
occasions,  and  it  should  not  have  been  shown  to  me.  The  man  who 
brought  it  to  me,  a  minor  chief,  was  pronounced  a  weak-headed 
degenerate.  He  was  deprived  of  its  custody,  and  during  the  twenty 
years  afterwards  that  I  was  connected  with  the  tribe  I  never  saw  it 
again.  Understanding  the  jealousy  with  which  it  was  regarded,  I 
made  no  attempts  to  do  so  and  regretted  my  curiosity  in  the  first 
instance.  Incidentally,  I  would  remark  that  the  image  was  in  no 
way  looked  upon  as  a  god  or  worshipped  in  any  form.  Fijians  are 
not  idolaters,  but  worshippers  of  the  spirits  of  their  departed 
ancestors,  who  in  the  next  world  watch  over  the  welfare  of  their 
posterity.  Talking  as  we  do  in  these  present  times,  I  should  say  that 
this  ivory  figure,  the  Queen  of  Waimaro,  was  but  an  extremely 
venerated  mascot,  or  the  “  luck  ”  of  the  tribe.  In  the  first  instance 
it  was  perhaps  the  work  of  some  seaman  on  one  of  the  early  ships 
to  visit  the  South  Seas.  Probably  it  was  traded  away  and  left  in 
one  of  the  groups  to  the  eastward,  and  brought  from  thence  by  some 
of  the  light-coloured,  straight -haired  people  of  those  parts,  who  from 
time  to  time  made  their  way  to  Fiji,  and  who  on  account  of  their 
beauty  and  physical  excellence  were  adopted  as  chiefs  by  the  indi¬ 
genous  tribes,  and  so  founded  the  principal  families  of  the  country. 

T arnbua  are  regarded  by  their  owners  very  much  as  a  girl  does  her 
dolls.  They  like  to  take  them  out,  admire  and  talk  about  their 
beauty.  They  keep  them  in  a  special  basket,  and  place  a  symmetri¬ 
cally  shaped  pebble  in  it.  The  latter  is  called  Tinaini  1  ambua  or  the 
mother  of  the  whale’s  teeth.  They  are  lonely  if  left  to  themselves, 
and  will  cry,  especially  at  night,  so  they  are  provided  with  a  mother 
to  hush  and  comfort  them.  These  stones  by  continual  oiling  and 


24  Fijian  Treasures 

polishing  also  become  very  pretty.  A  few  were  at  times  given  to  me, 
but,  alas  !  during  my  frequent  migrations,  probably  being  looked 
upon  as  mere  stones,  they  have  got  lost. 

Hardly  any  act  of  ceremony  is  possible  without  the  exchange  of 
tambua.  When  a  youth  seeks  a  wife,  the  request  must  be  accom¬ 
panied  by  the  presentation  of  a  whale’s  tooth  and  its  acceptance 
constitutes  a  binding  contract  of  marriage.  Should  it  be  desirable 
to  get  an  obnoxious  person  quietly  put  out  of  the  way,  tambua  are 
employed  to  effect  the  purpose.  Their  acceptance  implies  consent 
to  the  request,  and  then  the  bargain  must  be  carried  out  with  the 
strictest  honour.  It  is  extremely  difficult  not  to  take  them,  as  not 
only  are  they  coveted  for  their  beauty  and  value,  but  it  is  also  churlish 
and  discourteous  to  refuse  them.  When  a  native  falls  down  on  his 
knees  and  holds  forth  a  tambua ,  it  should  not  be  touched  until  one 
has  heard  the  nature  of  the  request,  if  it  is  one  that  can  properly  be 
granted  or  not.  There  is  another  act  almost  similar  in  gravity  to 
the  acceptance  of  a  tambua ,  namely,  that  in  which  a  person  embraces 
one’s  knees  and  kisses  one’s  feet.  That,  too,  is  supposed  to  confer  a 
moral  obligation  on  the  part  of  the  person  so  treated  to  carry  out 
the  terms  of  the  petition.  I  was  once  on  circuit  in  an  out-of-the-way 
part  of  Viti  Levu  when  an  old  woman  dived  into  the  house  in  which 
I  was  sitting,  and  before  I  could  do  anything  she  embraced  my  legs 
and  kissed  my  feet,  and  then  told  me  that  her  son  was  about  to  be 
impleaded  before  me  for  an  offence,  and  that  she  begged  his  pardon 
and  deliverance.  He  was,  however,  convicted  and  sentenced.  Subse¬ 
quently  one  of  the  old  gentlemen  of  the  place,  who  as  a  man  of  travel 
and  known  courteous  disposition  had  been  told  off  to  entertain  me, 
asked  me  confidentially  why  I  had  not  let  the  youth  off.  I  replied 
that  he  was  guilty  of  the  charge,  and  I  could  do  nothing  else. 

“  But,”  answered  my  old  friend,  Roko  Lemba  by  name,  “  the  old 
woman  kissed  your  feet  !  ” 


CHAPTER  II 


A  Fateful  Tambua 

IN  September,  1870,  the  date  of  my  arrival  at  Suva,  on  the  island 
of  Viti  Levu,  now  the  capital  of  the  colony  of  Fiji,  the  natives 
there  were  already  sincere  and  devout  Christians,  thanks  to  the 
Wesleyan  Mission.  About  fifteen  years  previously,  Thakombau, 
the  titular  King  of  Fiji,  having  embraced  the  new  religion,  his  re¬ 
tainers  and  vassals  followed  his  example,  amongst  whom  were  the 
people  of  Suva.  By  that  time,  also,  all  the  maritime  and  island  com¬ 
munities  had  abjured  heathenism  and  cannibalism,  and  only  the  hill 
tribes  of  Viti  Levu  followed  the  old  way.  Some  of  these  were  quite 
close  to  Suva,  as  their  villages  were  just  across  the  hills  on  the  western 
shore  of  the  harbour,  and  their  inhabitants  came  down  every  now 
and  then  to  trade  and  to  seek  work  with  the  new  settlers.  They 
were  easily  distinguishable  by  their  enormous  fuzzy-wuzzy  heads  of 
hair  and  scant  clothing.  The  men  only  wore  a  strip  of  malo  or  bark 
cloth,  passed  between  their  legs  and  fastened  round  the  waist  like  a 
sash.  This  get-up  very  much  resembled  that  of  the  immortal 
Gungadin,  “  not  very  much  before  and  rather  less  than  half  of  that 
behind.”  Their  women  folk  wore  the  liku ,  which  was  a  narrow  fringe 
of  grass  or  fibre,  tied  by  a  string  round  the  middle,  which  made  quite 
a  decent  and  respectable  covering  from  the  skilful  way  in  which  it 
was  worn. 

The  proper  name  for  these  hill  people  is  Kai  Tholo  or  “  from  the 
mountains.”  The  newly  converted  part  of  the  population  stigma¬ 
tised  them,  however,  as  tevoro,  which  is  a  corruption  of  our  word 
devil,  whilst  they  called  themselves  the  lotu  or  those  of  the  Christian 
religion.  The  first  act  of  those  who  abjured  the  old  way  was  to  shear 
off  their  enormous  mop-like  and  closely  matted  masses  of  hair,  a  very 
necessary  sanitary  precaution  enforced  by  the  Wesleyan  Mission. 
The  ancient  fashion  was  filthy  in  the  extreme,  breeding  vermin,  and 
the  drainage  from  it  caused  chronic  bloodshot  and  bleary  eyes.  The 
next  thing  was  to  adopt  the  sulu  for  their  attire,  or  two  yards  of 
cloth,  i.e.  a  fathom,  according  to  the  old  native  mode  of  computing 
length,  as  much  as  a  man  could  stretch  from  hand  to  hand  with  his 

25 


26 


A  Fateful  Tambua 

arms  held  out.  The  new  garment  and  its  name  came  from  Tonga, 
from  whence  arrived  the  first  missionaries  attended  by  some  of  their 
converts  of  that  country.  The  sulu  is  hitched  round  the  waist  and 
falls  in  a  graceful  fold  to  the  knee.  It  has  remained  the  national 
dress  of  Fiji,  and  worn  as  uniform  makes  the  armed  forces  of  the 
colony  look  like  our  kilted  Highland  regiments.  From  these  pecu¬ 
liarities  of  head  and  dress  the  settlers  used  to  refer  to  the  cannibal 
tribes  as  the  tevoro,  “  devils,”  or  the  “  big  heads,”  and  to  the  Chris¬ 
tians  as  the  lotu.  It  is  a  convenient  way  of  talking  of  them,  and  in 
these  pages  I  propose  so  to  refer  to  them.  Occasionally  the  newly 
converted  would  be  guilty  of  backsliding,  when  they  would  revert 
to  their  old  ways,  let  their  hair  grow  big  again  and  resume  the  ancient 
garb.  This  we  shortly  styled  as  “  throwing  off  the  cloth,”  in  contra¬ 
distinction  to  conversion,  which  we  called  “  putting  on  the  cloth.” 

We  landed  at  Suva  on  a  Sunday,  just  opposite  the  pretty  little 
native  church,  and  at  once  found  out  how  devoutly  the  natives  re¬ 
garded  the  day,  applying  to  it  all  the  rigidity  of  the  Sabbath.  Just 
freshly  landed,  we  were  eager  to  buy  bananas,  oranges,  green  coco¬ 
nuts  and  all  the  luxuries  of  the  tropics,  but  our  demands  were  met 
by  the  stereotyped  reply  of  singatambu  (holy-day),  and  we  got 
nothing.  In  accordance  with  the  Wesleyan  system,  or  Methodism, 
there  was  a  native  teacher  in  charge  of  the  village  who  conducted 
the  services  in  the  church,  and  for  three  or  four  days  of  the  week 
taught  the  children  reading,  writing  and  elementary  arithmetic. 
They  were  recording  then  in  a  little  ballad  the  murder  of  the 
Reverend  Thomas  Baker,  who  in  July,  1867,  had  perished  at  the 
hands  of  the  people  of  Vatusila,  away  in  the  western  hills  of  Viti 
Levu.  Fijians  make  rhymes  and  verses  about  every  occurrence  ;  it 
is  their  way  of  preserving  historical  events.  Very  wisely  the  Wesleyans 
have  adopted  the  system  as  a  method  of  instruction.  As  a  District 
Commissioner  the  native  teachers  always  asked  me,  when  on  circuit, 
to  examine  their  schools,  and  I  have  heard  wonderful  songs  and  seen 
amazing  dances  descriptive  of  physical  geography,  history  and  arith¬ 
metic.  I  can  only  now  recollect  the  refrain  of  the  dirge  in  which  the 
Suva  children  were  describing  the  murder  of  the  missionary  : — 

“  Oh  !  dead  is  Mr.  Baker, 

They  killed,  him  on  the  road, 

And  they  ate  him,  boots  and  all.” 

In  after  life,  as  the  Resident  Magistrate  of  their  district,  I  became 
intimately  acquainted  with  his  slayers.  At  Nandarivatu,  my  head¬ 
quarters  in  the  province  of  Tholo  North,  we  had  a  school  where  a 


A  Fateful  Tambua  27 

certain  amount  of  education  was  given  to  the  young  gentlemen  of 
the  district.  One  of  them  was  the  son  of  the  head  chief  of  Vatusila, 
where  Mr.  Baker  was  killed.  Our  scholar  was  not  alive  at  the  time, 
but  he  had  heard  all  about  it  from  the  old  people.  When  I  left 
Fiji  in  1910  he  had  succeeded  his  father,  and  had  become  the  Mbuli 
or  head  man  of  Vatusila.  As  such  he  was  responsible  to  the  Govern¬ 
ment  for  the  peace  and  good  order  of  his  district.  He  was  also  an 
ardent  Wesleyan,  and  under  their  system  held  services  as  a  lay 
preacher.  He  and  all  his  people  were  heartily  ashamed  of  the  mis¬ 
deed  of  the  tribe,  and  had  erected  a  cairn  where  it  occurred,  around 
which  they  had  planted  the  lovely  scarlet-leaved  native  dracaena.  The 
scene  of  it  is  a  pretty  valley,  through  which  flows  a  sparkling  brook 
which  falls  into  the  Waitoro,  the  main  head  of  the  Singatoka  River. 
Just  before  I  left  the  colony  the  Vatusila  people  held  a  great  council 
and  submitted  a  memorandum  in  which  they  stated  their  desire  to 
grant  in  fee  simple  to  the  Wesleyan  Mission  the  spot  where  Mr.  Baker 
fell,  with  some  two  to  three  hundred  acres  attached  as  an  act  of 
atonement.  I  duly  forwarded  it  with  a  favourable  recommendation, 
which  received  the  sanction  of  the  Government,  and  so  an  earnest 
effort  was  made  to  wipe  out,  as  far  as  possible,  the  stain  upon  the 
good  name  of  the  tribe.  Whenever  I  passed  the  place  and  its  rude 
heap  of  stones  I  was  always  reminded  of  that  verse  of  St.  Luke’s  : 
“  Ye  build  the  sepulchres  of  the  prophets,  and  your  fathers  killed 
them.” 

Although  they  were  heartily  sorry  for  what  they  had  done  they 
hotly  resented  the  accusation  of  having  eaten  the  boots.  They  said 
they  were  not  such  fools,  as  they  knew  quite  well  that  such  were 
adjuncts  of  the  vavalangi  or  white  men,  in  the  same  category  as 
their  guns,  powder,  axes,  knives,  etc.  They  said,  too,  that  they  had 
no  intention  to  harm  the  gentleman,  but  unfortunately  a  tambua 
reached  them  with  a  request  that  he  should  be  put  out  of  the  way. 
This,  coupled  with  an  indiscretion  on  his  part,  accomplished  his 
doom. 

Mr.  Baker,  prior  to  his  departure  on  his  last  journey,  was  living  on 
the  Lower  Rewa,  the  big  river  of  Viti  Levu.  Between  there  and 
where  he  was  killed  is  interposed  a  rough  and  rugged  country,  then 
quite  unknown  and  unexplored,  entailing  a  long  and  fatiguing 
journey  on  foot,  in  which  the  great  divide  which  separates  the  main 
water  systems  had  to  be  crossed.  Simultaneously  with  his  start  a 
tambua  was  despatched  by  one  of  his  neighbours,  a  local  chieftain, 
to  the  first  of  the  heathen  tribes  on  his  way,  asking  the  people  of  it 
to  be  yalo  vinaka  or  good-natured  enough  to  accept  the  sacred 


28 


A  Fateful  Tambua 

symbol,  and  in  return  slay  an  obnoxious  white  foreigner,  who  was 
shortly  to  arrive  amongst  them.  For  some  thirty  years  or  so  the 
sender  of  it  remained  unknown,  but  at  last  the  fears  and  remorse, 
entailed  by  the  sense  of  blood-guiltiness,  and  a  train  of  illnesses  and 
misfortunes,  enforced  a  confession.  When  it  was  made  the  actual 
sender  had  long  been  dead,  and  the  act  of  atonement  was  made  by 
his  eldest  son,  who  considered  that  he  was  being  visited  for  the  sin 
of  his  father.  According  to  native  custom  he  made  a  soro  or  act  of 
atonement  to  the  Wesleyan  Mission,  when  assembled  in  one  of  their 
synods  or  annual  conferences.  This  was  done  by  presenting  a  string 
of  tambua  to  the  assembled  elders,  accompanied  by  a  confession  of 
the  transgression  and  a  petition  for  pardon  and  absolution.  This 
was  of  course  granted,  and  thereby  the  uneasy  conscience  of  the 
son  felt  purged  of  the  crime  of  his  father,  or  as  the  people  them¬ 
selves  would  put  it  in  their  native  way,  “thus  his  soul  obtained 
relief.” 

In  1884,  seventeen  years  after  the  tragedy,  I  was  posted  as 
Assistant  to  the  Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  East,  whose 
jurisdiction  extended  to  the  head  waters  of  the  Rewa  River,  and  to 
the  great  divide  over  which  the  martyred  missionary  passed  on  his 
last  and  fatal  journey.  The  people  of  the  villages  through  which  he 
went  often  talked  about  him  and  the  mysterious  tambua  which 
accompanied  him  secretly.  They  greatly  desired  it,  and  it  was 
discourteous  not  to  accept  and  carry  out  its  behest,  but  prudence 
and  rough  native  statesmanship  intervened.  The  vavalangi  or 
dreaded  white  men,  with  their  unlimited  command  of  guns,  powder 
and  bullets,  were  best  left  alone,  and  each  tribe  refused  to  carry  out 
the  terms  of  the  tambua  and  passed  it  on.  At  the  same  time  they 
tried  to  dissuade  their  visitor  from  going  on,  earnestly  begging  him 
to  return,  assuring  him  that  beyond  their  boundaries  they  could  not 
guarantee  his  safety,  and  that  his  forward  path  was  beset  with  great 
danger,  but  their  admonitions  fell  on  deaf  ears. 

After  I  had  been  in  the  hills  about  twelve  years,  and  was  Resident 
Commissioner  of  the  Tholo  North  Province,  it  was  rather  quaintly 
borne  upon  me  how  circumspect  some  of  the  graver  chiefs  desired 
to  be  in  any  dealings  with  the  white  people.  Sir  John  Thurston, 
who  was  then  our  Governor,  had  asked  me  to  make  a  collection  of  the 
seeds  of  the  various  kinds  of  indigenous  tomato,  in  furtherance  of  a 
request  from  the  Agricultural  Bureau  of  the  United  States.  He 
himself  was  an  enthusiastic  and  accomplished  botanist,  but  was 
much  too  immersed  in  public  affairs  to  undertake  the  task.  So  he 
passed  it  on  to  me,  knowing  that  I  too  was  a  plant  lover,  and  greatly 


A  Fateful  Tambua  29 

interested  in  native  lore.  Just  then  I  was  about  to  meet  the  head 
men  and  elders  of  my  district,  and  took  the  opportunity  of  consulting 
them  on  this  particular  subject,  after  we  had  got  through  the 
business  for  which  we  had  assembled.  One  after  another  they 
unfolded  their  stock  of  knowledge,  but  I  observed  that  none  of  them 
mentioned  the  particular  variety  very  much  in  vogue  in  the  olden 
time,  the  mboro  ndina  or  true  spinach.  Its  botanical  name  is  the 
Solatium  Anthropophagorum,  which  explains  the  use  to  which  it  was 
put.  Its  leaves  and  fruit,  the  latter  a  small  and  somewhat  aromatic 
berry  like  a  tomato,  are  both  edible,  and  I  have  used  them  both  in  my 
kitchen.  It  might  be  considered  that  cannibalism  is  a  delicate 
subject,  and  one  to  be  avoided,  but  as  a  rule  my  native  friends  would 
discuss  it  quite  openly  and  freely,  attributing  it  to  the  darkness  and 
ignorance  of  the  olden  times.  On  this  occasion  they  held  back,  and 
I  perceived  that  they  wanted  a  lead.  So  with  a  deprecatory  air 
I  said  : 

“  Of  course  bygones  are  bygones,  but  what  about  the  ancient 
spinach,  the  mboro  ndina  ?  ” 

We  had  relaxed  from  formal  business  and  were  seated  in  a  circle 
round  the  yangona  bowl  drinking  kava.  An  old  greybeard,  one  of  the 
leading  chiefs,  looked  solemnly  round,  eyeing  each  one  of  us  slowly 
and  separately,  and  then  propounded  this  momentous  question. 

“  What  is  the  use  of  lying  ?  If  the  truth  be  known,  I  did  eat  part 
of  Mr.  Baker  !  !  !  It  came  about  in  this  manner  :  As  you  all  know, 
he  was  killed  by  the  Vatusila  people,  to  whom  my  mother  belonged. 
They  sent  up  one  of  his  thighs  wrapped  up  in  banana  leaves  to  my 
father,  the  Chief  of  Nandrau,  whose  successor  I  am.  You  will 
remember  how  careful  he  was  (turning  with  a  bow  to  me)  not  to  have 
any  friction  with  the  white  gentlemen.  So  he  refused  to  have  any¬ 
thing  to  do  with  this  present,  and  ordered  it  to  be  thrown  away. 
I  and  some  other  small  boys  got  hold  of  it,  and  cut  it  up  into  small 
pieces  and  cooked  it  in  a  little  kovu  (bundles  of  leaves,  which  in 
native  cookery  take  the  place  of  our  pudding  cloths)  done  up  with  the 
proper  spinach  and  so  we  ate  it.” 

This  vegetable  which  always  accompanied  human  flesh  was  con¬ 
sidered  very  necessary  on  account  of  the  supposed  binding  nature  of 
the  principal  part  of  the  repast,  and  spinach  was  thought  to  be  the 
corrective. 

Whilst  I  was  pondering  on  the  old  gentleman’s  declaration  and 
considering  what  I  should  say  a  slight  silence  fell  upon  us.  One  of 
the  listeners,  a  neighbour  and  friend,  desiring  to  show  sympathy  and 
not  leave  the  last  speaker  out  in  the  cold,  exclaimed  : 


30  A  Fateful  Tambua 

“  Well,  well,  we  were  all  a  bad  lot  in  those  days,  as  for  myself,  I 
strangled  my  old  mother  !  !  !  ”  Then,  feeling  the  need  of  justifying 
himself  to  me,  he  continued  : 

“  But  you  must  know,  sir,  that  I  did  not  want  to  kill  the  old  lady, 
I  only  acted  in  love  and  pity.  She  came  to  me  and  said  : 

“  ‘  My  son,  I  am  now  old  and  feeble,  a  nuisance  to  myself  and  a 
burden  to  you,  my  children,  be  well  disposed  towards  me,  make  an 
end  of  me,  and  put  me  out  of  my  misery.’ 

“  So  I  wound  a  fold  of  masi  (bark  cloth)  round  her  neck  and  did  as 
she  desired.” 

When  Mr.  Baker  arrived  among  the  Vatusila,  they  had  no  inten¬ 
tion,  at  first,  of  accepting  the  tambua  and  killing  him,  but  determined 
to  pass  it  on  as  the  other  tribesmen  had  done.  He  sealed  his  own 
fate,  however,  by  what  his  host  considered  a  gross  breach  of  good 
manners.  The  young  chief,  now  the  head  of  the  tribe,  whom  I  have 
mentioned  as  having  been  educated  in  the  Provincial  School  at 
Nandarivatu,  gave  me  their  version  of  the  affair.  He  said  that  when 
Mr.  Baker  arrived  in  their  village  he  was  hospitably  received,  and 
spent  the  night  there.  In  the  morning  he  produced  a  comb  and  used 
it  in  his  toilet,  and  then  laid  it  down  on  the  mats.  His  host,  the 
leading  chief,  picked  it  up  and  stuck  it  in  his  own  fuzzy  locks.  He 
did  it  quite  innocently,  as  property  was,  as  regards  ordinary  people, 
in  communal  use,  and  the  upper  classes  could  certainly  take  any¬ 
thing  they  fancied.  Native  combs,  too,  were  worn  stuck  into 
their  owner’s  hair.  They  were  very  necessary  appanages,  from 
the  verminous  state  of  the  big-heads,  being  constantly  required 
for  scratching.  The  knowledge  of  this  probably  offended  the  real 
owner’s  sense  of  cleanliness  and  decency,  and  he  snatched  it  from 
the  chieftain’s  head.  He  could  not  have  committed  any  deadlier 
offence.  The  head  is  the  sacred  part  of  the  body,  and  there  dwells 
all  the  mana  or  mysterious  power  of  a  man.  More  especially  is  this  the 
case  in  regard  to  a  chief,  as  he  is  generally  the  shrine  of  the  ancestral 
god,  and  as  such  is  himself  divine.  He  is  the  representative  of  his 
god-like  forbears  who  have  preceded  him  to  the  spirit  world,  and 
whose  worship  he  has  to  perpetuate  here  on  earth.  As  such,  when  he 
moves  about  among  the  people,  he  is  accorded  the  tama  or  sacred 
acclamation,  as  the  holy  father  of  the  tribe.  So  revered  is  his  head 
that  none  but  the  hereditary  priests  can  dress  it.  After  doing  so  they 
must  not  handle  food,  and  have  to  use  skewers  with  which  to  pass  it 
to  their  mouths,  or  have  to  be  fed.  The  divinity  of  the  chief’s  head 
by  contact  entered  their  hands,  rendering  them  tambu. 

The  insult  to  the  chief’s  honour,  and  the  covetous  desire  for  the 


A  Fateful  Tambua  31 

beautiful  ivory  tambua  sealed  Mr.  Baker’s  fate,  and  it  was  decided 
that  the  request  accompanying  the  whale’s  tooth  should  be  carried 
into  effect.  Shortly  after  leaving  the  village,  at  an  appointed  spot,  he 
fell  under  the  battle  axe  of  one  of  the  chief’s  henchmen,  and  the 
body  was  taken  back  to  the  village  and  displayed  in  the  rara  or  public 
square.  An  ancient  chieftainess  came  and  seated  herself  by  the 
corpse  and  endeavoured  to  arrange  it  for  burial,  begging  that  it  might 
not  be  put  to  the  usual  purpose,  and  prophesying  woe  to  the  tribe 
for  the  evil  deed.  The  narrator  who  told  me  this  said  they  had  good 
cause  to  remember  her  predictions,  as  nothing  but  woe  and  evil 
fortune  had  dogged  them  ever  since.  In  vain  were  her  petitions ;  the 
ruthless  law  of  the  vanquished  was  applied,  and  the  body  was  eaten 
in  accordance  with  immemorial  tradition. 

This  fateful  tambua,  but  a  simple  whale’s  tusk,  proved  a  veritable 
dragon’s  tooth,  and  the  people  of  Vatusila  and  the  sender  reaped 
the  whirlwind.  Many  innocent  people  died  from  its  baneful  effects, 
and  through  it  much  blood  was  shed.  Thakombau,  who  by  that 
time  had  become  the  titular  King  of  Fiji,  was  induced  to  send  up 
country  armed  expeditions  to  avenge  the  murder.  His  columns 
started  from  various  sources,  but  they  acted  independently  of  each 
other,  and  were  without  discipline  or  cohesion,  and  with  one  excep¬ 
tion  were  ambushed  and  cut  to  pieces  before  they  ever  got  near 
their  objective.  One  of  them  got  wandering  about  in  a  part  of  East 
Tholo,  to  which  I  was  afterwards  posted,  and  through  which  Mr. 
Baker  had  passed,  where  the  people  had  refused  the  tambua  and  had 
warned  him  not  to  proceed.  An  armed  military  force  of  tribesmen, 
other  than  their  own,  was  not  to  be  tolerated,  and  the  hill  men  drew 
it  into  an  ambush,  from  which  but  few  escaped.  I  was  shown  the 
scene  of  it,  a  pretty  little  valley  with  a  mountain  brook,  the  waters  of 
which,  I  was  assured,  ran  blood  on  that  memorable  day. 

As  all  these  punitive  expeditions  failed,  no  immediate  vengeance 
fell  upon  the  people  of  Vatusila,  and  they  were  emboldened  to 
commit  attacks  upon  the  white  men,  the  cotton  planters  on  the  Mba 
or  northern  coast  of  Viti  Levu.  In  1871  they  murdered  Spiers  and 
Mackintosh,  whilst  out  duck  shooting,  and  carrying  their  bodies  into 
the  territory  of  the  Yalatina  tribe,  ate  them  there.  A  force  of 
settlers  recruited  in  all  parts  of  the  group  assembled  at  Varoko  on  the 
4th  August,  1871,  in  order  to  avenge  the  deaths  of  their  countrymen. 
They  were  accompanied  by  their  island  labourers  from  all  parts  of 
the  Western  Pacific.  These  were  joined  by  a  section  of  the  people 
of  Mba  under  one  of  their  leading  chiefs,  who  were  to  act  as  our 
guides  and  allies.  They  duly  led  us  up  into  Yalatina  where  we  came 


3  2  A  Fateful  Tambua 

into  action  with  the  tribesmen,  who  promptly  burnt  their  village 
and  dispersed  amidst  the  rocks  and  glens  of  their  rugged  hills.  It  was 
no  use  hunting  for  the  fugitives,  and  the  first  Mba  Expedition,  as  it 
was  called,  returned  to  its  base  on  the  coast,  having  practically 
effected  nothing.  It  was  just  as  well  from  the  point  of  justice.  The 
Yalatina  were  not  actually  concerned  in  the  murders.  The  Vatusila 
who  were  guilty  of  them  committed  a  breach  of  neutrality  by  baking 
and  eating  the  bodies  at  Yendu,  a  Yalatina  village.  The  people  there, 
no  doubt,  were  accessories  after  the  fact  and  with  fatal  Fijian 
insouciance  participated  in  the  orgy,  but  at  the  same  time  they  were 
mortally  afraid  of  their  savage  neighbours  of  Vatusila  on  whose 
borders  they  were.  In  any  case  the  Expedition  attacked  the  wrong 
place.  Spiers  and  Mackintosh  were  eaten  at  Yendu  and  it  was 
Thumbu  that  was  burnt  in  retaliation.  But  there  was  no  Intelligence 
Department,  few  of  the  settlers  could  talk  Fijian,  and  the  Mba 
allies  led  us  to  the  nearest  Yalatina  village.  That  suited  native  ideas 
of  vicarious  justice,  and  absolved  them  from  incurring  the  risk  of  a 
march  into  the  dreadful  Vatusila  country. 

Inland  Viti  Levu  was  then  an  unknown  quantity.  All  that  was 
known  was  that  the  people  were  cannibals,  distinguishable  by  their 
lack  of  clothing  and  fuzzy-wuzzy  mops  of  hair.  Till  the  treacherous 
assassination  of  the  two  Mba  planters,  there  had  been  peace,  but 
after  that  misdeed  a  state  of  warfare  started,  and  it  was  very  much 
the  fashion  to  fire  at  sight  on  the  big-heads  whenever  they  came  down 
to  the  settled  districts.  Also  the  foreign  labourers  on  the  plantations 
joined  in  the  fray.  They  knew  that  the  hill  people  had  killed  two  of 
their  white  masters,  and  therefore  all  beyond  the  boundary  were 
potential  enemies  to  be  slain  whenever  possible,  in  accordance  with 
South  Sea  custom.  This  was  unfortunate,  as  many  of  the  inland 
people,  who  hated  and  abhorred  the  Vatusila,  often  came  down  to 
visit  their  friends  and  relatives  on  the  coast,  and  a  reprisal  by  some 
Solomon  Islanders  on  one  of  them  was  the  cause  of  a  very  dreadful 
tragedy. 

The  planter  on  the  Mba  River  nearest  to  the  cannibal  country 
was  a  Mr.  Burns,  who  lived  on  a  cotton  plantation  known  as  Vuni- 
samuloa.  Some  little  while  after  the  first  Mba  Expedition  he  and 
his  wife  and  family  were  massacred  under  very  revolting  circum¬ 
stances,  the  little  children  being  seized  by  their  legs  and  their  brains 
dashed  out  against  the  verandah  posts  of  the  bungalow.  This  out¬ 
rage  was  perpetrated  by  people  from  Karawa,  in  the  hills  westward 
of  Mba,  who  had  no  connection  with  the  Vatusila,  the  offenders  in 
the  first  instance,  and  was  done  in  revenge  for  the  death  of  one  of 


A  Lotu  or  Christian  Fijian  of  the  Present  Day. 

His  short  hair  and  sultt,  or  waist  cloth,  show  his  renunciation  of  cannibalism 
I'hito  by  J  H  Waters.  Suva 


Fijian  Armed  Native  Constabulary. 

in  sulu  or  ki’ts.  The  contingent  at  King  Edward’s  Coronation  were  for  a  few  days  with  the  Gordons 
at  Aberdeen,  whom  they  regarded  as  kai  vata ,  or  relations,  on  account  of  the  kilt 


A  Fateful  Tambua  33 

their  young  men  who  was  killed  and  eaten  by  Burns’  Solomon 
Islanders. 

They  were  subsequently  indicted  for  murder,  the  case  being 
investigated  in  Levuka,  then  the  capital  of  Fiji.  I  knew  intimately 
the  magistrate  before  whom  they  appeared.  He  was  one  of  the  old 
die-hards  who  came  into  the  service  in  King  Thakombau’s  time.  He 
knew  no  law  and  wanted  to  know  none.  He  told  me  he  was  much 
annoyed  by  the  interferences  of  Mr.  Edgar  Leopold  Layard,  our 
British  Consul,  and  a  brother  of  the  Nineveh  celebrity.  He  appeared 
on  the  scene,  I  suppose,  in  the  interests  of  the  Solomon  men,  as 
Great  Britain  was  the  special  protector  of  the  Pacific  Islanders  who 
came  to  labour  in  Fiji.  He  kept  ejaculating  ;  “  First  of  all  establish 
your  corpus  delicti .”  To  those  not  learned  in  the  law  it  simply  means 
that  a  murdered  body  must  be  identified.  There  are  cases  recorded 
in  which  people  have  been  tried,  convicted  and  executed  for  murders, 
the  subjects  of  which  have  subsequently  been  discovered  wrell  and 
pursuing  their  ordinary  avocations.  Therefore  it  is  now  laid  down 
that  before  a  person  is  condemned  to  death,  the  body  of  the  victim 
must  be  clearly  identified.  As  the  Solomon  Islanders  had  eaten  it, 
my  old  friend  bitterly  complained  it  was  hardly  possible  to  establish 
the  corpus  delicti  when  it  had  disappeared  down  the  throats  of  the 
accused. 

By  that  time,  King  Thakombau  had,  with  the  aid  and  assistance 
of  the  European  settlers,  established  a  settled  form  of  government, 
one  of  whose  first  acts  was  to  despatch  a  properly  drilled  force  of 
Fijians,  under  white  officers,  against  these  rude  marauders,  who,  with 
all  the  other  cannibal  tribes,  were  speedily  subjugated.  In  accord¬ 
ance  with  South  Sea  custom,  the  conquered  became,  in  theory  at 
least,  the  slaves  of  their  conquerors.  With  the  vigilant  British  ships 
of  war  on  the  look  out,  the  old  practice  could  not  be  put  into  effect. 
At  the  same  time,  some  punishment  was  due  for  the  atrocities  which 
had  been  perpetrated.  The  prisoners  were  therefore  tried  as  rebels, 
and  sentenced  to  terms  of  penal  servitude,  which  was  carried  into 
effect  by  leasing  them  out  as  labourers  on  the  cotton  plantations. 
In  1874  Fiji  was  annexed  by  Great  Britain,  and  proclaimed  a  Crown 
Colony  of  a  severe  type.  Almost  immediately  these  prisoners  were 
released,  told  to  be  good  and  sent  home.  Two  years  afterwards  they 
threw  off  the  cloth  and  resumed  their  old  habits,  emphasising  their 
contempt  of  the  new  regime  and  the  British  flag  by  attacking  some 
of  the  Christian  villages,  killing  and  eating  their  inhabitants.  Promi¬ 
nent  in  these  raids  were  my  friends  of  Vatusila.  Sir  Arthur  Gordon, 
our  first  Governor,  then  made  his  campaign  in  1876,  which  is  known 
c 


34  A  Fateful  Tambua 

as  “  The  Little  War,”  in  which  he  finally  and  completely  pacified 
the  erstwhile  wild  tribes  of  inland  Viti  Levu.  He  used  the  Armed 
Native  Constabulary  of  Fiji,  aided  by  tribal  levies  under  the  com¬ 
mand  of  Captain  (afterwards  Major)  Knollys,  the  Governor’s  A.D.C., 
with  a  subsidiary  column  led  by  Mr.  Arthur  Lewis  Gordon,  a  distant 
relative  of  His  Excellency.  They  both  were  awarded  the  C.M.G. 
for  their  services.  No  Imperial  troops  were  used — a  very  successful 
and  inexpensive  way  of  dealing  with  the  insurrection — and  Sir  Arthur 
was  justly  proud  of  his  achievement.  In  his  various  reports  to  the 
Colonial  Office,  and  in  a  book  which  he  published  privately,  he  styled 
it  “  The  Little  War,”  a  term  always  subsequently  used  by  the  old 
colonists  when  referring  to  the  operation. 

Of  course,  the  Vatusila  suffered  more  or  less  in  their  constant  fights, 
but  they  regarded  it  much  as  our  gallant  allies  across  the  Channel, 
UA  la  guerre ,  comme  a  la  guerre ,”  the  usual  fortune  of  war.  Subse¬ 
quently,  when  old  age  crept  over  the  principal  actors  on  this  little 
stage,  the  pangs  and  ills  attendant  upon  it  were  attributed  to  Divine 
wrath  and  vengeance.  Then  their  consciences  began  to  prick  them, 
and  they  began  to  think  of  endeavouring  to  atone  for  the  sins  of 
their  youth.  This  belief  was  greatly  strengthened  by  a  very  dramatic 
incident  which  occurred  at  Tavua-i-tholo,  on  the  Singatoka  River, 
their  head  village,  on  Christmas  Day,  1894. 

It  was  the  hot  and  wet  season,  in  which  there  are  frequent  and 
sudden  thunderstorms.  When  such  occur  the  Singatoka  rises  rapidly, 
rolling  down  its  channel  in  a  solid  wall  of  water.  On  the  day  in 
question  the  villagers  were  thatching  a  house.  It  is  a  noisy  job,  those 
on  the  roof  shouting  to  the  people  below  to  hurl  up  the  bundles  of 
reeds,  with  which  native  houses  in  those  parts  are  covered.  Reeds 
have  very  sharp  points,  and  are  capable  of  inflicting  nasty  wounds. 
Those  below  throw  them  with  much  force,  endeavouring  to  spear  the 
thatchers  above,  who  for  their  part  exhibit  their  skill  in  catching  the 
bundles  as  they  fly  upwards. 

The  leading  spirit  in  this  scene  of  hilarity  and  fun  was  the  young 
chief,  the  eldest  son  of  the  head  of  the  tribe  and  its  future  hope. 
The  noise  and  excitement  offended  the  sense  of  propriety  of  the 
Wesleyan  teacher  in  spiritual  charge  of  the  village.  He  came  and 
delivered  a  homily  on  the  sin  of  disturbing  the  peace  of  Christmas, 
which  should  be  observed  with  all  the  sanctity  due  to  a  Sabbath. 
The  young  chief  laughed,  and  told  him  to  mind  his  own  business, 
which  was  the  teaching  and  care  of  the  school  children,  and  leave 
the  warriors  alone.  The  heavy  thunder  shower,  usual  at  this  season 
in  the  afternoon,  put  an  end  to  the  work  and  brought  the  river  down 


A  Fateful  Tambua  35 

in  a  heavy  spate.  Soon  the  flood  from  the  hills  filled  the  bed  of  the 
stream  from  bank  to  bank,  breaking  in  waves  of  foam  on  the  great 
boulders  which  obstructed  its  course.  Then  is  the  time  for  fun,  and 
the  young  athletes  show  their  skill  and  daring  by  jumping  from  rock 
to  rock  until  the  opposite  side  is  reached.  Foremost  at  this  game 
was  the  young  chief  of  Vatusila.  But,  alas  !  his  foot  got  jammed  in 
a  crevice,  and  notwithstanding  his  frantic  efforts  he  could  not  extri¬ 
cate  it.  In  vain  did  his  henchmen  and  relatives  go  to  his  assistance 
with  lianes  or  bush-ropes  to  help  him.  He  remained  stuck,  whilst 
the  river  continued  to  rise,  breaking  over  him  in  showers  of  spray 
and  finally  drowning  him  and  crushing  his  body. 

All  the  neighbouring  tribesmen  wagged  their  heads  and  quoted 
Scripture. 

“  Ah  !  ”  said  they,  “  ‘  The  wages  of  sin  is  death,’  ”  and  they  of 
Vatusila  mournfully  concurred.  They  had  not  yet,  however,  com¬ 
pletely  reaped  the  whirlwind  ;  the  aftermath  had  yet  to  come.  The 
heir  of  the  tribe  was  buried  with  many  heathen  rites  and  ceremonies 
within  the  village  precincts  on  the  edge  of  the  public  square.  Over 
his  grave  was  built  a  handsome  native  house  which  was  completely 
furnished  with  mats  and  the  ordinary  utensils  of  domestic  life.  He 
was  interred  swathed  in  the  costliest  mats  procurable,  and  round  his 
waist  was  wound  a  long  sash  of  malo  or  native  bark  cloth,  the  badge 
of  chiefly  rank.  It  was  enormously  long,  one  end  protruding  from 
the  tomb  and  carried  out  into  the  midst  of  the  public  square,  where 
it  was  pegged  down. 

In  conformity  with  ancestral  worship,  and  for  other  reasons  which 
will  be  explained  presently,  many  of  the  tribes  buried  their  dead 
under  the  floors  of  their  dwelling-houses.  The  medical  officers  of 
the  colony  considered  it  a  most  insanitary  custom,  and  a  law  for¬ 
bidding  it  was  passed.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  sepulchre  of  the 
young  chief  was  turned  into  a  sleeping  house  or  mbure  for  some  of 
the  eldest  members  of  the  tribe,  who  in  natural  sequence  soon  would 
follow  their  young  lord  along  the  spirit  road  to  the  other  world. 
They  spread  their  mats  over  his  tomb  and,  until  his  soul  had  finally 
wrenched  itself  away  from  the  earthly  tenement,  they  listened  to  the 
struggles  below.  At  first  the  body  strives  to  retain  its  ghostly 
occupant,  and  the  strife  between  them  is  distinctly  audible,  but  as 
decay  sets  in  the  fight  becomes  feebler,  and  when  decomposition  is 
complete  the  spirit  triumphs  and  vw*rgs  its  way  to  the  Holy  Land. 

The  native  police  duly  reported  this  infringement  of  the  Burial 
Act  and  wanted  to  prosecute  the  head  man  or  Mbuli  of  Vatusila. 
As  he  had  become  a  good  and  loyal  man  I  refused  to  allow  any  pro- 


36  A  Fateful  Tambua 

ceedings  to  be  taken.  The  native  conscience  is  tender,  and  the  Fijians 
are  fully  assured  that  one’s  sin  will  always  find  one  out.  The  Vatusila 
people  had  added  yet  another  offence  to  their  long  calendar,  having 
buried  their  young  chieftain  in  contravention  of  the  Government 
regulation,  and,  although  the  Resident  Commissioner  had  condoned 
this  breach  of  the  law,  Nemesis  was  yet  to  claim  her  own. 

This  unlawful  burying  took  place  in  the  hot,  rainy  season.  In  the 
following  July,  the  winter  time  in  the  Viti  Levu  hills,  all  the  heads 
and  notables  of  West  Tholo  met  at  Tavua-i-tholo,  the  principal 
village  of  Vatusila,  to  hold  the  Provincial  Council  or  local  Parliament. 
The  chief’s  residence,  the  Vale  Levu  or  big  house,  was  used  during 
the  daytime  as  the  council  chamber,  and  at  night  as  my  quarters. 
It  was  intensely  cold  for  that  part  of  the  world,  and  on  the  night  of 
which  I  am  about  to  write  the  thermometer  fell  to  40  degrees 
Fahrenheit.  The  heavy  river  fog  from  the  Singatoka  swathed  the 
houses  in  damp  folds  of  white  mist,  and  within  the  people  piled  logs 
on  to  their  fires  to  keep  themselves  warm.  About  3  a.m.  I  was 
awakened  by  what  sounded  like  volley  firing  in  a  general  action  and 
by  a  frightful  hubbub,  as  if  “  The  club  were  in  circulation,”  as  the 
Fijians  would  put  it.  I  looked  out  and  saw  a  house  in  flames,  the 
bamboo  rafters  of  which,  exploding  from  the  hot  air  in  their  com¬ 
partments,  made  reports  like  guns  going  off.  Men  with  axes  were 
dealing  heavy  blows  on  the  grass  walls  to  detach  them  from  the 
building,  causing  the  noise  like  fighting  with  clubs.  I  had  hardly 
realised  the  scene  before  me  ere  my  native  servant  Seru  came  bound¬ 
ing  into  my  quarters,  saying  : 

“  Do  not  be  alarmed,  sir  ;  it  is  only  a  house  on  fire.  Just  stop 
where  you  are,  and  don’t  bother  to  take  any  steps  or  go  outside  to 
issue  orders.  It  is  merely  a  local  affair  ;  let  the  people  themselves 
settle  it.” 

It  was  the  mbure ,  the  mausoleum  of  the  young  chief,  and  it  was 
burned  down  altogether.  The  old  greybeards  within,  owing  to  the 
intense  cold,  had  piled  log  after  log  on  to  their  fire,  and  had  so  set 
light  to  their  quarters. 

Public  opinion  pronounced  the  verdict.  The  young  chief  died 
because  of  the  sins  of  his  father,  and  his  tomb  was  consumed  by  fire 
because  it  had  been  built  in  defiance  of  the  law. 


CHAPTER  III 


Viti  Levu 

VITI  LEVU,  or  Great  Fiji,  is  the  mainland  of  the  group 
marked  on  the  map  of  the  world  as  the  Fiji  Islands. 
This  designation,  now  in  common  use,  we  owe  to  Captain 
Cook,  although  the  majority  of  the  natives  themselves 
call  their  country  Viti.  The  great  navigator,  in  his  visits  to  the 
adjacent  Friendly  Isles  in  1771  and  1 777,  now  better  known  as  Tonga, 
saw  parties  of  Fijians  who  used  to  sail  thither  in  their  large  double 
canoes,  for  which  they  were  famous.  His  hosts  informed  him  that 
these  strangers  came  from  an  adjacent  archipelago  to  the  westward, 
which  they  called  Fiji.  He  accordingly  adopted  that  name,  and  so 
it  went  forth  to  the  world  at  large.  Fijians  and  Tongans  both  speak 
dialects  of  the  great  Polynesian  language,  prevalent  from  the  Mar¬ 
quesas  and  Tahiti  in  the  east  to  New  Zealand  in  the  west.  Never¬ 
theless,  their  various  inhabitants  do  not  understand  each  other,  as 
their  talk  differs  as  much  as  French,  Italian  and  Spanish.  Like  them, 
however,  many  of  the  roots  are  common  and  some  of  the  everyday 
words  are  identical.  Frequently  it  means  but  the  interchange  of 
letters.  Thus,  where  the  Tongans  use  “  f  ”  and  “  j,”  the  Fijians 
substitute  “  v  ”  and  “  t,”  and  say  Viti  instead  of  Fiji.  Going 
further  to  the  eastward,  to  Tahiti,  we  find  that  “  h  ”  takes  the 
place  of  “  v,”  and  there  they  call  our  islands  “  Hiti.” 

The  early  Wesleyan  missionaries,  who  were  the  first  to  bring 
Christianity  to  Fiji,  helped  to  perpetuate  Captain  Cook’s  title,  or 
shall  we  say  error  ?  After  they  had  established  themselves  in  Tonga 
they  began  to  cast  longing  eyes  on  the  neighbouring  group,  which 
their  converts  taught  them  to  speak  of  as  Fiji.  Accompanied  by 
some  of  them,  Messrs.  Cargill  and  Cross,  the  pioneers  to  the  new 
field,  landed  at  Lakemba,  the  nearest  Fijian  island  of  consequence, 
in  1835.  There,  owing  to  the  frequent  commerce  and  intercourse 
between  the  two  groups,  they  found  the  Tongan  pronunciation  in 
vogue,  and  used  the  word  Fiji  in  their  first  reports.  Thus  they,  with 

37 


38  Viti  Levu 

Captain  Cook,  settled  the  name  of  the  cluster  of  islands  which  is 
now  the  colony  of  Fiji. 

Viti,  without  doubt,  is  the  common  name  used  by  the  majority  of 
the  Fijians.  No  scholar  of  the  language,  either  in  speaking  or  writing, 
would  think  of  employing  any  other  word.  The  native  monthly 
magazine,  or  newspaper,  published  by  the  Government,  bears  this 
on  its  title-page  :  “  Na  Mata ,  Ai  V ola  1  Tukutuku  V akaviti”  which 
in  English  means :  “  The  Messenger,  A  Letter  of  News  after  the 
manner  of  Viti.”  When  I  first  became  acquainted  with  the  country 
the  natives  thought  their  country  the  biggest  in  the  world.  When 
new-comers  differed  from  them  on  this  point,  they  roundly  called 
them  liars.  That  was  fifty  years  ago,  and  in  the  meantime  the  slow 
but  steady  pressure  of  education  afforded  by  the  Mission  Schools  has 
taught  them  otherwise.  Before  I  left  England,  in  the  time  of  the 
China  clippers,  with  their  cargoes  of  old-fashioned  lead-lined  tea 
chests,  boys  used  to  collect  the  linings,  melt  them  down  and  throw 
the  molten  metal  into  water.  This  used  to  make  it  fizz  and  splutter, 
like  lava  when  it  flows  into  the  sea,  and  assume  as  many  fantastic 
shapes.  Fijian  lads  soon  learned  this  also,  as  most  of  the  chiefs  and 
men  of  importance  possessed  pigs  of  lead  and  bullet  moulds  for  the 
casting  of  the  round  balls  required  for  the  old  smooth-bore  muskets 
used  in  tribal  warfare.  When  a  glimmering  of  the  truth  began  to 
filter  through  as  to  the  size  and  importance  of  Fiji  in  regard  to  the 
rest  of  the  world,  a  young  native  gentleman  of  the  highest  rank,  a 
grandson  of  King  Thakombau,  said  to  me  one  day  : 

“  After  all,  what  are  our  islands  in  regard  to  other  countries  ? 
They  are  only  like  those  little  jagged  forms  and  shapes  that  we  boys 
made  when  we  used  to  throw  the  dregs  of  molten  lead  into  water, 
when  we  helped  our  fathers  to  cast  bullets  !  ” 

Anyone  who  has  seen  the  ragged  sierra  and  jagged  volcanic  peaks 
and  spires  of  the  inland  scenery  of  Viti  Levu  and  the  Fijian  Isles  in 
general  will  recognise  the  aptness  of  the  simile. 

By  the  time  I  joined  the  Colonial  service  in  1884  most  of  the 
village  schools  were  equipped  with  large  maps  of  the  world,  and  of 
the  principal  continents  and  countries.  The  children  attending  them 
quickly  picked  up  a  very  fair  knowledge  of  elementary  geography,  of 
which  one  day  I  was  given  a  practical  demonstration  whilst  on  circuit 
in  the  very  heart  of  Viti  Levu.  We  had  just  scrambled  up 
to  an  elevation  of  some  3000  feet,  to  the  great  divide  which 
separates  the  Wainimala,  one  of  the  head  waters  of  the  Rewa,  from 
the  Singatoka  River.  It  was  before  the  days  of  made  roads  ;  there 
was  only  a  track,  at  which  even  a  goat  would  probably  have  remon- 


Viti  Levu 


39 

strated,  but  was,  nevertheless,  dignified  by  the  name  of  a  “  path  ” 
in  the  official  handbook.  Breathless  and  panting,  we  flung  ourselves 
into  the  bed  of  bracken  and  giant  club  moss  which  clothes  Koroleva- 
leva,  the  name  of  the  ridge  to  which  we  had  attained.  Up  there 
the  cool  fresh  air,  as  exhilarating  as  champagne,  soon  revived  us,  and 
ere  long  my  guides  and  companions  lit  up  their  home-grown  tobacco, 
rolling  it  up  in  the  thin,  soft  dry  leaves  of  the  particular  sort  of 
plantain,  the  seleuka ,  by  which  name  native  cigarettes  are  known. 
After  a  while,  when  their  fragrance  had  spread  around,  a  few  sighs 
of  contentment  arose  and  a  little  ripple  of  talk,  the  baggage-carriers 
indulging  in  a  few  comments  on  the  nature  of  their  job  and  the 
country  we  were  passing  over.  They  were  couched  in  such  a  polite 
reference  to  our  race  that  I  expect  they  were  meant  to  be  overheard 
and  intended  for  my  benefit. 

“  Ah  !  ”  said  they,  “  our  white  gentlemen  lie,  do  they  not  ?  They 
mark  our  islands  on  the  map  of  the  world  as  a  few  mere  specks.  Just 
let  them  try  what  it  is  to  carry  baggage  across  Viti  Levu  !  ” 

They  were  not  without  reason,  as  it  is  no  mean  island,  being  ninety 
miles  from  east  to  west,  and  sixty-three  from  north  to  south,  with 
an  area  of  4112  square  miles.  It  is  about  the  same  size  as  Jamaica, 
or,  to  bring  it  nearer  home,  about  equal  to  the  collective  area  of 
Kent,  Sussex,  Surrey  and  Middlesex.  Like  the  shapes  assumed  by 
the  molten  lead  thrown  into  water,  the  hills  are  broken  up  and 
fantastic,  except  Tomanivei,  the  main  central  mountain,  which  is  a 
round  fertile  mound  of  earth,  like  a  mother’s  breast.  In  her  swelling 
bosom  rise  the  principal  heads  of  the  Rewa  and  Singatoka,  the  great 
rivers  of  Viti  Levu,  and  is  the  reason  of  the  name  “  Tomanivei,” 
which  means  “  bubbling  or  springing  from  whence  ?  ”  This  deri¬ 
vation  was  explained  to  me  by  Ratu  Jona  Uluinatheva,  the  Wesleyan 
native  minister  of  my  district,  when  he  and  I,  with  a  party  of  the 
local  inhabitants,  made  the  ascent  of  the  mountain.  He  was  an 
educated  and  cultured  native  gentleman,  learned  in  his  own  language, 
and  his  derivation  may,  I  think,  be  accepted  without  reserve.  It  is 
explained  by  the  great  number  of  springs,  which  everywhere  abound, 
making  the  slopes  there  like  a  vast  sponge.  Those  on  the  north  and 
west  go  to  form  the  Singatoka  and  Mba  Rivers,  whilst  the  rivulets 
on  the  south  and  east  fall  into  the  Rewa. 

The  first  to  climb  Tomanivei  was  Sir  John  Thurston  in  1885,  then 
our  Governor.  He  ascended  from  the  west,  and  only  reached  the 
minor  summit.  He  then  wrote  to  me  and  desired  that  I  should 
approach  it  from  the  east.  I  did  so  on  April  30th,  1886,  and 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  main  elevation.  There  I  made  some  inter- 


40  Viti  Levu 

esting  discoveries  of  which  I  hope  to  give  some  details  later  on.  We 
were  very  patriotic  in  those  days,  and  all  held  our  Sovereign  Lady 
Queen  Victoria  in  the  greatest  love  and  veneration.  In  my  zeal  I 
called  our  big  hill  “  Mount  Victoria,”  after  Her  Majesty,  and  so  it 
is  to  be  found  on  the  ordnance  survey  map  to-day.  The  natives, 
with  their  usual  loyalty,  at  once  adopted  the  new  name,  which, 
however,  they  euphonised  into  Ului  Vikatoria  or  “  Victoria’s  Crown.” 
Subsequently  I  was  instrumental  in  cutting  a  bridle  track  which 
joined  together  Tholo  North  and  Tholo  East,  two  of  the  highland 
provinces.  It  passed  through  the  gaps  in  which  rose  the  Singatoka 
and  Rewa  Rivers,  and  this  part  I  named  “  The  Queen’s  Pass,”  which 
the  local  people  translated  into  Tambale  ni  Ranandi,  which,  in  my 
idea,  sounds  altogether  prettier  than  our  way  of  putting  it.  I  love 
the  old  native  names,  and  only  in  these  two  instances  was  I  guilty 
of  substituting  our  own.  I  did  it  for  political  reasons,  as,  at  that 
time,  there  was  a  strong  latent  tendency  towards  the  old  beliefs  and 
customs,  of  which  cannibalism  was,  of  course,  the  bedrock.  As  this 
narrative  proceeds  I  shall  endeavour  to  explain  the  position. 

The  interior  of  Viti  Levu  is  broken  and  rugged,  traversed  by  steep 
ranges  of  upheaved  volcanic  mountains,  intersected  by  deep  valleys, 
gorges  and  canons,  through  which  flow  the  head  affluents  of  the 
Rewa,  Navua,  Singatoka  and  Mba  Rivers.  The  first  three  discharge 
themselves  on  the  southern  coast,  and  the  latter  on  the  northern. 
There  are  besides  hundreds  of  minor  streams.  The  island  has  this 
peculiarity  :  all  along  the  northern  and  north-western  coasts  there 
are  short  plains  nowhere  over  ten  miles  in  length  between  the  sea 
and  the  foothills.  Then  the  mountains  rise  sheer  to  about  2000  feet, 
when  a  short  plateau  intervenes,  and  we  come  to  the  main  range, 
which  culminates  at  Tomanivei,  or  Mount  Victoria,  4550  feet  above 
the  sea.  From  thence,  as  the  crow  flies,  there  are  about  fifty  miles 
of  undulating  country,  until  the  sea  is  reached  on  the  southern  coast. 
These  long  slopes  catch  all  the  moisture  brought  up  from  the  Pacific 
by  the  S.E.  trades.  They  form  the  weather  side  of  the  island,  and 
account  for  the  heavy  rainfall  there,  which  fills  the  long,  navigable 
southern  rivers.  The  clouds  spend  themselves  before  they  cross 
Mount  Victoria,  and  from  thence  to  the  northern  beaches  is  the  lee 
and  dry  side  of  Viti  Levu.  The  distance  thither  is  only  some  fifteen 
miles  in  a  direct  line.  Consequently,  the  northern  rivers  are  but 
short,  fierce  and  angry  when  fed  by  the  frequent  thunderstorms  of 
the  wet  season,  and  reduced  in  size  during  the  dry  season. 

Nandarivatu,  the  hill  station  and  sanatorium  which  I  had  the 
honour  of  founding,  and  where  I  lived  for  eighteen  years,  stands  on 


Girl  with  Tombe  or  Love-Locks. 

These  locks  are  a  mark  of  virginity,  cut  off  after  marriage.  The  jealous  Tavua  men  shore 
oft  those  of  their  maidens  who  flirted  with  the  soldiers  from  Nandarivatu. 

Photo  by  J .  H.  Waters,  Suva. 


A  Takia  or  Light-Draught  Canoe. 

Used  on  the  headwaters  of  the  Viti  Levu  rivers.  The  valevale  or  little  thatched  house,  protects 
the  travellers  from  sun  and  rain. 


Viti  Levu 


41 

an  escarpment  facing  the  northern  coast,  at  an  elevation  of  2700  feet. 
It  was  the  headquarters  of  a  small  detachment  of  the  Armed  Native 
Constabulary  of  Fiji,  the  old  A.N.C.,  as  we  familiarly  called  it.  The 
original  camp  was  laid  out  in  the  form  of  a  square  on  a  small  plateau, 
on  the  upper  or  northern  side  of  which  were  the  officers’  quarters 
facing  a  garden.  The  lower  or  southern  side  was  occupied  by  the 
barracks  and  the  parade  ground.  On  the  former  is  a  little  glen  in 
which  rises  the  infant  head  of  the  Tavua,  one  of  the  small  northern 
rivers  ;  it  falls  over  the  precipitous  escarpment  through  a  narrow 
cleft  worn  by  the  water  in  the  hard  volcanic  rock.  In  the  lower  or 
southern  camp  is  a  small  rill,  one  of  the  many  heads  of  the  Singatoka 
River,  which  finds  the  ocean  at  Nandronga,  on  the  S.W.  point  of 
Viti  Levu,  after  a  long  and  wandering  course.  Five  miles  or  so,  as 
the  crow  flies,  in  the  background,  in  a  southerly  direction,  is  Mount 
Victoria,  over  which  passes  the  main  mail  track  to  Suva,  the  seat  of 
government. 

Standing,  as  it  does,  on  the  backbone  of  the  island,  and  on  the 
road  which  connects  the  southern  and  northern  coasts,  Nandarivatu 
is  a  good  jumping-off  place  from  which  to  describe  the  whole  island. 
Northward,  stretched  at  one’s  feet,  are  the  low,  undulating  hills  and 
grey,  grassy  plains  which  fringe  the  coast,  cut  up  into  fantastic 
patterns  by  the  countless  meandering  brooks  with  the  belts  of  trees 
and  shrubs  which  mark  their  course.  Then  comes  the  deep  blue  of 
“  the  locked  lagoon,”  ruffled  by  the  true  and  constant  S.E.  trade, 
with  its  border  of  snow-white  breakers  on  the  reef  outside,  which 
separates  it  from  the  mighty  Pacific.  From  her  bosom  rises  the 
chain  of  the  Yasawa  Islands,  whose  jagged  and  fantastic  forms  are 
silhouetted  against  the  northern  sky,  and  beyond,  looming  on  the 
far  horizon,  is  Vanua  Levu  or  the  Great  Land,  the  second  in  size 
of  the  group.  A  broad  passage  separates  the  Yasawas  from  Vanua 
Levu,  marked  on  the  southern  side  by  Alewa  Kalou,  the  Round 
Island  of  the  Admiralty  charts,  through  which  the  main  ocean  is 
reached.  Captain  Bligh,  in  his  famous  boat  voyage  in  1789,  after  the 
mutiny  of  the  Bounty ,  escaped  by  it  into  the  open  sea,  when  he  was 
chased  by  canoes  from  Waia,  one  of  the  Yasawa  Islands.  On  its  high 
volcanic  peaks  were  always  sentinels  watching  for  canoes  or  other 
craft  in  distress.  Such  were  lawful  prey,  “  those  with  salt  water  in 
their  eyes  ”  being  doomed  by  the  ancient  law  to  the  bamboo  knives, 
the  heated  stone  ovens  and  the  cannibal  maw.  With  what  pangs 
must  those  weary,  sea-worn  refugees  from  the  Bounty  have  looked 
upon  the  cooling  brooks  falling  in  cascades  over  the  volcanic  cliffs, 
and  the  glossy,  green  groves  of  breadfruit,  coco-nuts  and  bananas  of 


Viti  Levu 


42 

the  fair  and  fertile  isles  by  which  they  passed.  We  can  see  by  Bligh’s 
charts  how  close  they  were  to  some  of  them,  yet  from  the  savage 
nature  of  the  inhabitants  they  dared  not  land.  Often  and  often,  as 
I  took  my  evening  walk  to  the  edge  of  the  precipitous  cliffs  to  watch 
the  setting  sun  as  it  dipped  away  beyond  the  Yasawas,  have  I  thought 
of  that  brave  voyage  of  nearly  4000  miles  in  the  Bounty's  boat. 

Not  only  through  Nandarivatu  passes  the  main  mail  track,  but 
also  the  Tuleita ,  the  spiritual  road,  over  which  pass  the  shades  of  the 
dead  after  they  have  departed  this  life  in  the  southern  and  western 
parts  of  the  island.  They  go  by  it  to  the  Holy  Land,  or  Mount 
Olympus  of  Fiji,  the  shrine  of  the  great  Ndeng-ei,  the  creator  god. 
Many  and  dire  are  the  tribulations  they  meet  with  ere  they  reach 
the  myrtle  groves  of  Nakauvandra,  the  abode  of  the  gods.  It  lies  a 
little  to  the  eastward  of  Nandarivatu,  on  a  rocky  volcanic  spur  which 
juts  out  into  the  sea  on  the  Ra  coast.  This  abode  of  bliss,  and  the 
path  which  leads  to  it,  must  be  described  in  another  chapter,  as  it 
is  quite  a  long  story  by  itself. 

Turning  southwards,  along  the  material  prosaic  track  to  Suva, 
fairly  level  country  is  encountered,  with  glades  of  forest  and  open 
stretches  of  moorland,  until  the  western  slopes  of  Mount  Victoria 
or  Tomanivei  are  reached.  They  flame  with  scarlet  and  orange  when 
it  is  the  season  for  the  vung-a ,  the  native  myrtle  ( Metrosideros  Collina), 
to  flower.  Their  kindred  grow,  too,  in  New  Zealand,  of  which  the 
omniscient  Kipling  sings  in  his  Ballad  of  the  Flowers  : — 

“  Buy  a  blood-red  myrtlebloom, 

Buy  the  kowhai’s  gold 
Flung  for  gift  on  Taupo’s  face, 

Sign  that  spring  is  come — 

Buy  my  clinging  myrtle 

And  I’ll  give  you  back  your  home  ! 

Broom  behind  the  windy  town  ;  pollen  o’  the  pine — 

Bell  bird  in  the  leafy  deep  where  the  ratas  twine — 

Fern  above  the  saddle-bow,  flax  upon  the  plain — 

Take  the  flower  and  turn  the  hour,  and  kiss  your  love  again  !  ” 

Never,  to  my  knowledge,  did  the  poet  visit  Fiji,  yet  the  above  is 
a  perfect  description  of  the  country  behind  Nandarivatu.  Often 
have  I  ridden  saddle  deep  in  the  fern  there  and  heard  the  bell  birds 
calling  where  the  ratas  twine,  and  smelt  the  pollen  o’  the  pine. 
Every  now  and  then  giant  and  hoary  ndakua  trees  are  met,  which 
are  almost  identical  with  the  kauri  pine  of  New  Zealand  and  produce 
a  similar  gum  and  emit  the  same  aromatic  perfume.  It  is  supposed 
that  the  two  countries  were  joined  together  in  prehistoric  times,  and 


Viti  Levu 


43 

are  now  the  remains  of  a  vast  submerged  continent.  Geologically 
and  botanically  they  have  much  in  common. 

At  the  eighth  mile-post  out  from  Nandarivatu  the  Queen’s  Pass 
is  entered,  and  near  the  middle  of  it  is  a  small  and  clear  spring, 
welling  forth  with  delicious  icy  cold  water.  Here  we  usually  halted 
for  lunch  when  on  the  long  ride  across  the  great  dividing  range  from 
north  to  south.  It  was  shaded  by  tall  ferns,  and  all  around  were 
trees  on  whose  boughs,  every  here  and  there,  could  be  caught  flashes 
of  scarlet  and  orange,  the  flower  of  the  Dendrobium  Mohlianum ,  an 
orchid  quite  common  when  the  2000  feet  limit  has  been  reached. 
Should  it  happen,  too,  to  be  the  season  for  the  flowering  of  the 
myrtles,  the  whole  place  would  be  alive  with  twittering  parrakeets, 
many  kinds  of  finches  and  humming  birds,  that  seek  their  food  in 
the  blossoms.  This  part  of  the  pass  looks  towards  the  west,  and  one 
can  see  miles  and  miles  of  the  open  grass  country  of  the  West  Tholo 
province,  backed  by  jagged  sierra  and  broken  ranges. 

This  little  spring  is  the  source  of  the  Nasongo,  one  of  the  many 
tributaries  of  the  Rewa,  the  great  southern  and  eastern  river.  A  little 
to  the  right  can  be  seen  the  Singatoka,  which  finds  the  sea  to  the 
south-west.  Just  across  the  further  slope  of  her  wooded  valley  rises 
the  Mba,  the  river  of  the  northern  coast,  and  away  in  the  distance 
may  be  seen  the  silver  streaks  which  mark  her  upper  reaches.  Stand¬ 
ing  here  and  seeing  so  many  streams,  one  understands  that  Tomanivei 
is  a  veritable  Mother  of  the  Waters. 

Just  beyond  this  infant  head  of  the  Nasongo  is  the  southern  end 
of  the  pass,  and  beyond  it  lie,  fold  upon  fold,  the  long,  wooded  slopes 
as  they  fall  away  to  the  great  valley  of  the  Rewa  and  all  sight  of  the 
sea  is  lost,  and  it  is  easy  to  imagine  oneself  on  a  large  continent.  For 
miles  the  track  winds  through  and  round  the  hills,  corrugated  like 
sheets  of  galvanised  iron,  whilst  below  the  baby  Nasongo  fights  her 
way.  At  first  her  course  is  easy  as  she  flows  through  the  soft,  fertile 
earth  of  her  mother’s  bosom.  Presently,  gathering  size,  she  comes 
to  volcanic  cliffs,  over  which  she  dashes  in  a  series  of  falls  and  cascades, 
fretting  and  chafing  against  the  huge  boulders  which  obstruct  her, 
dashing  her  spray  upon  them,  which  is  returned  in  glittering  rain¬ 
bows  from  the  hardy  shrubs  and  ferns  which  cling  to  the  dark  grey 
stones.  Onward  she  cuts  her  way  through  deep  canons  of  igneous 
rock  and  basalt,  many  of  which  are  honeycombed  with  caves.  The 
mouths  of  some  of  these  may  be  seen  neatly  walled  up  with  loose 
stones.  They  are  the  last  resting-places  of  the  tribal  elders,  and 
denote  the  approach  of  human  habitations.  The  stream  begins  to 
widen  and  little  glens  and  glades  open  out,  with  backgrounds  of 


44  Viti  Levu 

forest,  behind  which  rise  grey  cliffs  and  crags.  Glossy  green  and  grey, 
with  the  silver  of  the  stream,  are  the  prevailing  tints.  Fiji  is  not  a 
country  of  precious  stones,  but  beautiful  pearls  are  found  around  her 
coasts.  Some  of  these  are  grey  and  very  lovely  to  behold,  and  might 
well  be  chosen  as  the  representative  jewel  of  the  colony  in  the  Crown 
regalia.  The  grey  rocks,  the  green  forest  trees  and  the  silver  stream 
at  their  feet  make  a  toute  ensemble  like  Shakespeare’s  description  of 
our  own  England  : — • 

“  This  precious  stone  set  in  a  silver  sea.” 

It  is  in  these  glens  that  the  hardy  hill-men  build  their  pretty  and 
picturesque  villages.  The  first  on  the  main  mail  track,  between 
Nandarivatu  and  Suva,  is  called  Nasongo,  embowered  in  groves  of 
fruit  trees,  and  gay  with  amaranths,  crotons,  dracsenae  and  other 
variegated  shrubs.  Along  its  eastern  base  flows  the  river,  which  takes 
its  name  from  the  Nasongo  tribe,  who  dwell  in  this  lovely  spot. 
Here  is  a  series  of  deep  pools,  delightful  to  bathe  in,  and  small  rapids. 
Across  it  rises  sheer  a  grey  precipice,  over  which  a  lover  once  leaped 
in  search  of  the  happiness  which  he  thought  was  denied  him  in  this 
world.  The  scene  always  brought  into  my  mind  those  lines  from 
The  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome  : — 

“  From  that  grey  crag  where,  girt  with  towers, 

The  fortress  of  Nequinum  lowers 
O’er  the  pale  waves  of  Nar.” 

In  the  centre  of  these  hamlets  is  a  green  called  the  rara,  the  public 
square,  where  the  villagers  meet  for  the  performance  of  ceremonies 
and  dances.  It  is  generally  planted  with  short,  smooth,  couch  grass, 
which  is  carefully  tended  and  kept  in  order,  and  fringed  with  bril¬ 
liantly  foliaged  plants.  Ranged  around  is  the  Mbure  or  great  tribal 
hall,  where  the  men  sleep  and  transact  most  of  the  business  of  the 
community.  There,  too,  stand  the  dwellings  of  the  principal  chiefs, 
raised  on  mounds  of  earth,  faced  with  pebbles  from  the  river  bed. 
These  houses  resemble  our  English  farmyard  ricks,  and  a  correspon¬ 
dent  of  one  of  the  leading  Australian  papers  in  the  early  days  aptly 
described  them  as  “  disembowelled  haystacks.” 

Here,  right  in  the  very  interior,  the  streams  are  as  yet  unfit  for 
even  canoes,  but  gradually  as  they  open  out  and  broaden  they  become 
navigable  for  takia,  the  lightest  description  of  native  craft.  Rapids 
still  abound,  obstructed  by  rocks,  stones  and  snags,  which  make  them 
dangerous  for  all  but  the  inland  folk,  who  are  to  the  manner  born 
and  accustomed  to  these  troubled  waters.  The  coast  men,  expert 
seamen  and  canoe  sailors,  affect  to  despise  the  hill  people  and  con- 


Viti  Levu  45 

temptuously  call  them  Kai  Tholo ,  which  in  its  simple  sense  merely 
means  mountaineers  or  dwellers  inland.  They  look  down  upon  them 
as  lacking  in  culture  and  manners,  which  they  themselves  pretend  to 
possess  in  a  superlative  degree.  Skilful  as  they  are  on  their  own  salt 
water,  they  cannot  cope  with  the  whirling  rapids  of  the  inland  water¬ 
ways.  The  Roman  Catholic  bishop  and  entourage  once  came  into 
the  hill  country  in  canoes  manned  by  coast  men  who,  in  their  pride 
and  naughtiness  of  heart,  thought  they  could  successfully  surmount 
the  dangers  of  the  highland  rivers.  The  result  was  that  they  swamped 
their  episcopal  charge,  who  was  rolled  down  one  of  the  rapids  and 
bruised  on  the  rocks.  The  Wesleyans,  whose  converts  consider  them¬ 
selves  true-born  Britons,  were  the  first  in  the  mission  field  and  greatly 
resented  the  intrusion  of  their  rivals.  The  representatives  of  the 
latter  were  mostly  Frenchmen,  which  contributed  something  of  racial 
feeling  to  the  feud.  The  difference  in  creed  and  nationality  was 
hardly  understood  by  the  simple  hill  men,  who  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  Wesleyans  stood  for  Britain  and  the  Roman  Catholics  for 
France.  So  much  did  this  idea  prevail  that  Wesleyan  native  offenders 
against  the  law  of  the  colony  thought  that  by  changing  their  religion 
and  seeking  refuge  in  the  compounds  of  the  Roman  Catholic  missions 
they  would  be  immune  from  punishment  and  under  the  protection 
of  the  French  flag.  Personally,  as  the  magistrate  of  the  province  to 
which  I  was  posted,  I  had  actual  experience  of  this.  The  head 
native  Wesleyan  teacher  of  the  district  where  the  accident  occurred 
was  also  quite  a  bishop  in  his  own  small  way,  from  the  number  of 
minor  clergy  and  villages  in  his  charge.  The  accident  to  the  dignitary 
of  the  other  Church  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  indulging  in  a  little 
sarcasm.  Putting  on  his  best  white  starched  shirt,  black  tie  and  flow¬ 
ing  sulu,  which  used  to  be  the  pulpit  get-up  of  his  calling,  he  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  call  upon  his  native  equivalent  on  the  other  side,  a  coast 
man.  Addressing  him,  he  said  : 

“  Felipe,  if  you  cannot  take  better  care  of  your  white  gentlemen 
come  to  us  Wesleyans,  and  we  will  do  it  for  you.  Do  not  think  you 
can  drown  the  Bishop  with  impunity  because  he  is  a  Frenchman  ! 
Should  you  do  so,  the  British  Government  would  assuredly  hang  you 
and  all  concerned.  After  all,  you  and  I  are  fellow-countrymen,  and 
I  should  not  like  so  dire  a  fate  to  befall  you.” 

Our  Fijian  rapids  have  not  the  terrors  nor  the  ferocity  of  those 
of  continental  rivers,  as  they  lack  their  size  and  grandeur,  but  they 
require  skill  and  local  knowledge  in  their  negotiation.  This  is  pos¬ 
sessed  to  perfection  by  the  hill  men,  and  in  my  many  canoe  journeys 
we  hardly  ever  came  to  grief.  Accidents  will,  however,  occur,  and 


Viti  Levu 


I  have  on  occasions  been  swamped,  but  the  danger  incurred  then 
was  always  small,  usually  meaning  only  the  inconvenience  of  wet 
clothes  and  damage  to  one’s  belongings. 

After  getting  clear  of  the  rapids  the  head  of  steamer  navigation 
is  reached,  and  then  commence  the  homesteads  and  plantations  of 
the  settlers.  Along  the  banks  are  lines  of  light  railways  which  convey 
the  sugar  canes  to  the  central  mills,  whilst  on  the  rivers  powerful 
steam  tugs  with  strings  of  barges  behind  do  the  same.  Sugar  is  the 
principal  product  of  Fiji,  and  the  mills  for  its  manufacture  are  fitted 
with  the  latest  and  most  up-to-date  appliances  ;  they  are  lit  by 
electricity,  and  the  cane  juice  is  treated  in  the  most  scientific  method 
known.  Down  on  these  lower  reaches  of  the  rivers  are  the  newest 
inventions  of  an  advanced  civilisation.  Up  above,  on  their  head 
waters,  dwell  the  simple  hill  men  in  their  neat  and  pretty  villages. 
There  the  communal  Mbure,  or  tribal  hall,  is  still  occasionally  lit  by 
the  kauri  gum  brought  from  the  heart  of  the  forest,  or  with  bamboo 
and  reed  torches,  though,  to  be  strictly  honest,  it  must  be  said  that 
kerosene  is  rapidly  ousting  them,  finding  its  way  thither  mainly  by 
the  patient  efforts  of  the  Hindu  peddlers,  who  now  conduct  most  of 
the  petty  commerce.  Inland,  or  in  Tholo,  as  the  Fijians  would  say, 
witchcraft  and  the  evil  eye  is  still  feared,  and  no  one  can  expect  to 
live  and  be  healthy  unless  the  very  many  difficult  and  devious  customs 
prescribed  by  ancient  tradition  are  complied  with. 

From  the  great  central  sugar  mill  at  Nausori  to  Suva,  our  island 
city  on  the  south  coast,  is  but  a  few  miles  either  by  land  or  by  water, 
where  the  big  mail-steamers  call,  and  it  is  the  landing-place  of  the 
Pacific  Cable,  the  All  Red  Line,  which  links  us  with  the  Empire. 
The  Ordnance  map  of  Viti  Levu  shows  that  it  is  but  sixty-three 
miles  between  the  northern  and  southern  coasts,  yet  to  travel  between 
them  entails  a  journey  of  one  hundred  and  twenty.  The  steep  and 
rugged  mountains,  over  which  the  road  has  to  zigzag,  and  the 
meandering  rivers  nearly  double  the  distance. 


CHAPTER  IV 


The  Resident  Commissioner 

WHEN  the  “Little  War”  of  1876  was  finished,  Sir 
Arthur  Gordon  thought  that  the  kai  Tholo,  the  lately 
subjugated  hill  tribes,  were  scarcely  fitted  then  for 
the  rigidity  of  British  Law.  In  his  opinion  they 
required  to  be  dealt  with  slowly,  partly  in  accordance  with  their 
own  traditions,  as  far  as  they  were  good,  and  with  our  law,  as  far  as 
it  could  be  made  applicable.  He  therefore  caused  an  Ordinance,  as 
we  call  Acts  out  there,  to  be  passed  in  the  Legislative  Council  of  the 
Colony  to  provide  for  the  jurisdiction  of  the  “  Lately  disturbed 
districts  of  Viti  Levu,”  as  the  preamble  put  it.  This  enactment 
established  that  they  should  be  placed  beyond  the  control  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  under  Resident  Commissioners,  who  should  have 
all  the  powers  of  the  High  Court,  subject  only  to  revision  by  the 
Governor.  They  were  to  try  by  the  aid  of  native  assessors  all 
indictable  offences,  such  as  ordinarily  in  other  districts  would  be 
committed  to  the  Supreme  Court  by  the  Stipendiary  Magistrates. 
Four  assessors  were  to  sit  with  the  Resident  Commissioner  in  cases 
of  murder,  and  two  for  other  offences.  They  exercised  the  functions 
of  juries  and  were  supposed  to  give  their  advice  in  matters  of  native 
custom.  This  Act  gave  great  powers  and  influence  to  the  officers  it 
created,  and  was  always  regarded  with  much  jealousy  by  the  members 
of  the  Supreme  Court  and  the  Bar.  During  an  interregnum  in  1897, 
when  the  Chief  Justice  was  Acting-Governor,  the  Act  was  repealed 
and  the  Tholo  Districts  brought  within  the  scope  of  the  ordinary 
jurisdiction. 

For  administrative  purposes  the  lately  disturbed  districts  were 
divided  into  two  Provinces — Tholo  West  and  Tholo  East.  The 
former  had  been  the  theatre  of  the  “  Little  War  ”  in  1876,  and  there 
had  been  fighting  in  the  latter  pretty  continually  until  as  late  as 
1874.  On  the  ^ast  occasion,  however,  when  their  kinsmen  in  the 
west  in  1876  had  been  all  ablaze,  those  in  the  east  remained  on  the 


47 


48  The  Resident  Commissioner 

Government  side  owing  to  the  great  influence  exercised  by  their 
Resident  Commissioner,  Mr.  W.  S.  Carew.  In  June,  1884,  I  was 
given  a  post  under  him  and  directed  to  report  at  his  headquarters  for 
duty.  In  those  days,  Fiji  was  an  extremely  poor  Colony,  and  to  give 
the  higher  officials  anything  like  decent  pay  they  had  to  hold  a  multi¬ 
plicity  of  offices.  In  addition  to  being  Resident  Commissioner  for 
Tholo  East,  Mr.  Carew  was  a  Commissioner  of  Native  Lands,  and  as 
such  a  member  of  the  Executive  Council.  He  was  also  Stipendiary 
Magistrate  for  the  district  of  Rewa,  which  was  then  the  most 
important  magisterial  jurisdiction  in  Fiji.  In  it  was  the  largest 
central  sugar  mill  fed  by  extensive  cane  plantations,  on  which  were 
employed  great  numbers  of  Indian  coolies.  They  are,  as  is  generally 
known,  extremely  litigious,  and  they  took  up  most  of  the  time  of  their 
judicial  officer.  So  much  was  this  the  case  that  Mr.  Carew  could 
no  longer  reside  in  Tholo  East,  which  he  could  only  visit  on  special 
occasions.  I  was  therefore  made  his  Assistant  there,  and  a  Stipendiary 
Magistrate  of  the  Colony,  which  gave  me  power  to  deal  with  all 
summary  jurisdiction  offences  and  those  within  the  scope  of  the 
Native  Regulations,  in  which  had  been  codified  the  ancient 
customary  law.  All  indictable  offences  were  reserved  for  the 
Resident  Commissioner’s  Court. 

The  Honourable  Walter  Sinclair  Carew,  under  whom  I  was  to 
have  the  honour  of  serving,  was  entitled  to  the  prefix  before  his 
name  through  being  a  member  of  the  Executive  Council  of  the 
Colony.  He  was  a  very  good-hearted  rough  diamond,  somewhat 
inclined  to  eccentricity.  Fortunately  I  knew  him  very  well,  as  in  the 
early  days,  before  even  the  establishment  of  the  Thakombau 
Government,  we  had  been  cotton  planters,  and  had  both  served  in 
the  ranks  of  the  first  Mba  Expedition,  which  endeavoured  to  avenge 
the  deaths  of  Spiers  and  Macintosh,  whom  I  have  already  mentioned 
as  having  been  murdered  in  1871  by  the  people  of  Vatusila.  He  was 
extremely  expert  in  the  language  and  manners  and  customs  of  Fiji. 
I  have  heard  aristocratic  Mbauans,  the  tribe  to  which  King  Thak¬ 
ombau  belonged,  whose  dialect  is  that  of  polite  society,  into  which 
the  Bible  has  been  translated  and  which  is  used  for  all  Government 
proclamations  and  papers,  express  admiration  for  the  purity  and 
elegance  of  his  diction.  His  career  had  been  most  romantic.  His 
father  was  one  of  Nelson’s  junior  lieutenants,  who  found  himself 
placed  on  half-pay  at  the  general  peace  on  the  cessation  of  the 
Napoleonic  wars.  Being  of  an  enterprising  nature  he  invested  his 
small  capital  in  a  fine  ship  and  made  a  modest  fortune  in  trading 
ventures  all  over  the  world.  In  those  days  buying  cargoes  in  distant 


The  Resident  Commissioner  49 

ports  and  selling  them  in  others  was  most  profitable.  It  was  on  one 
of  these  voyages  that  the  gentleman,  whose  assistant  I  became,  was 
born  off  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  His  early  youth  was  spent  there 
and  at  St.  Helena  until  he  came  to  England  for  his  education.  After 
that,  like  his  father,  he  followed  the  sea,  entering  the  mercantile 
marine.  He  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the  South  African 
ports  and  often  told  me  about  Walfisch  Bay  and  Angra  Pequena, 
when  we  were  having  our  wrangle  with  the  Germans  about  them. 
He  acquired  easily  the  dialects  of  the  different  places  he  had  visited, 
and  could  speak  Cape  Dutch,  French  and  German.  When  the 
Indian  coolies  made  their  appearance  in  Fiji,  he  speedily  picked  up 
Hindustani. 

Nandurulolo  was  the  name  of  the  Government  Station  for  the 
Rewa  District.  I  landed  there  from  a  steam  launch,  and  as  I  walked 
up  the  grassy  knoll  upon  which  stood  the  magisterial  quarters  I 
passed  a  big  native  policeman  in  undress,  which  means  just  a  fringe 
of  grass  and  leaves  round  the  middle.  With  a  sixteen-inch  butcher’s 
knife,  the  most  beloved  tool  of  Fijians,  he  was  weeding  the  path. 
The  Resident  Commissioner,  after  he  had  greeted  me,  said  : 

“  Do  you  see  that  chap  there  ?  My  old  black  cat  caught  a  rat 
last  night,  and  that  fellow  stole  it  and  ate  it  !  So  he  is  just  doing  an 
hour’s  extra  fatigue  !  ” 

From  a  Fijian  point  of  view,  this  punishment  was  extremely 
right  and  correct.  In  robbing  the  cat,  he  stole  from  his  master,  and 
was  guilty  of  the  grossest  disrespect  to  his  superior  officer,  an  offence 
punishable  by  death  according  to  the  ancient  law.  It  was  mean  and 
selfish,  too,  to  steal  and  eat  the  rations  of  a  comrade,  and  a  member 
of  the  same  community,  an  offence  in  the  same  category  as  hoarding 
and  stinginess.  Before  even  King  Thakombau’s  government  the 
early  missionaries  introduced  a  rough  code  such  as  they  had  estab¬ 
lished  in  the  Friendly  Islands,  from  whence  they  brought  it  on  to 
Fiji.  This  system  was  called  the  Lawa  V akatonga  or  the  law  after 
the  custom  of  Tonga.  Under  it  there  was  a  judge,  as  he  was  styled, 
in  every  village.  Every  three  months  or  so  they  would  assemble  in 
the  principal  centre  of  their  district  and  hold  a  sort  of  quarter 
sessions.  Mostly  the  proceedings  were  altogether  oral,  but  there  was, 
and  is,  a  considerable  literary  and  clerkly  strain  in  many  of  the 
Fijians,  and  soon  rough  written  notes  of  the  cases  were  recorded, 
mostly  in  copy  and  exercise  books.  When  we  began  to  establish 
regularity  we  came  across  some  of  these  old  and  curious  records  and 
found  minutes  of  convictions  for  selfishness,  for  not  sharing  food 
with  one’s  friends  and  comrades,  and  for  stinginess.  Those  offences 
D 


50  The  Resident  Commissioner 

were  not  in  the  Tongan  code  of  the  missionaries  we  may  be  sure, 
but  they  were  punishable  by  the  old  customary  law  of  the  country. 

There  used  to  be  a  local  song  about  “  The  dear  old  impecunious 
days  when  Thakombau  was  Rex.”  Even  long  after  the  British  peace 
descended  upon  us  Fiji  was  very  poor  indeed,  and  it  is  only  within 
the  last  twenty  years  that  the  Colony  has  blossomed  into  its  present 
affluence.  Under  His  Fijian  Majesty  we  were  hard  up  indeed,  and 
used  to  try  and  raise  money  in  Australia  and  New  Zealand.  It  was 
before  the  cable  had  been  laid  from  England  to  those  countries,  and 
we  were  too  far  away  to  borrow  in  the  home  market.  Only  the 
monthly  P.  and  O.  boats  visited  Australia,  and  as  far  as  my  recollec¬ 
tion  goes  no  home  steamers  at  all  came  to  New  Zealand.  It  was  the 
era  of  the  sailing  ship.  When  we  did  get  our  neighbours  to  make 
advances,  it  was  like  getting  a  bill  discounted  by  the  proverbial 
money  lender.  Not  much  cash  was  forthcoming,  a  large  percentage 
having  to  be  taken  out  in  kind.  On  one  occasion,  instead  of  the  usual 
sherry  and  cigars,  a  lot  of  old  East  India  Company’s  uniforms  formed 
part  of  the  proceeds  of  the  loan.  They  were  frock  coats  of  an 
ancient  type,  very  long  and  much  bedizened  with  frogs  and  tags. 
In  those  days  the  various  provinces  of  Fiji  were  presided  over  by 
native  chiefs,  who  rejoiced  in  the  titles  of  Governors  or  Lieutenant- 
Governors,  according  to  the  size  and  importance  of  their  domains. 
On  the  acquisition  of  the  uniforms  just  mentioned,  the  former  were 
provided  with  those  of  Colonels  and  the  latter  with  Lieutenant- 
Colonels. 

One  day  Ratu  Napoleon,  the  Lieutenant-Governor  of  Rewa, 
looked  around  the  group  of  retainers  assembled  in  the  Vale  Levu, 
i.e.  the  Big  House,  and  said  in  the  usual  patriarchal  style  : 

“  Boys,  I’m  dreadfully  hard  up,  there  is  positively  not  a  coin  in 
the  provincial  cash  bag ;  it’s  absolutely  empty,  and  I  am  at  my  wit’s 
end  to  know  how  we  can  raise  even  a  cent.” 

Many  propositions  were  advanced  as  to  how  the  pecuniary 
position  could  be  improved,  but  for  some  time  nothing  practical 
was  arrived  at.  At  last  one  brilliant  genius  said  : 

“  How  would  it  do  to  hold  a  Court  and  fine  somebody  ?  ” 

Yes,  that  was  a  very  fine  idea,  but  who  had  got  any  money  ? 

“  Well,  there  is  Watisoni,  who  has  been  working  for  some  time 

for  Mr.  R - ,  and  Peter,  who  is  cook  at  Smith’s  Hotel ;  they  were 

sure  to  have  something.” 

“  Good,”  said  the  Lord  of  Rewa.  “  Convene  the  Court  and  order 
the  attendance  of  those  two.” 

With  fear  and  trembling  the  delinquents  donned  their  best  and 


The  Resident  Commissioner  51 

entered  the  Presence,  in  honour  of  which  Watisoni  had  put  on  his 
best  and  only  shirt.  The  Lieutenant-Governor,  attired  only  in  the 
long  frock-coat  with  just  a  waistcloth  underneath,  glared  at  him, 
saying  :  “  And  how  much  money  might  you  have  ?  ” 

Falteringly,  his  vassal  answered,  “  Ten  shillings,  sir.” 

“  Ho  !  then  you  are  fined  ten  shillings  for  hoarding,  selfishness  and 
oppressing  the  people  !  ” 

The  money  was  paid  over  at  once,  but  so  far  from  satisfying  the 
over-lord,  it  only  whetted  his  appetite. 

“  What  !  ”  continued  he.  “  Do  I  see  one  of  my  vassals  with  a 
shirt  on,  whilst  I,  the  head  of  the  clan,  have  no  such  thing  wherewith 
to  clothe  my  back.  Off  with  it  and  hand  it  over.” 

Then  might  have  been  witnessed  the  scene  of  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor,  in  all  the  glory  of  his  uniform,  putting  the  shirt  over  it  in 
the  way  Fijians  don  such  a  garment.  The  method  is  to  put  the  arms 
in  first  and  then  wriggle  the  head  and  body  through  the  tail  and  neck 
part.  Thus  attired  with  the  shirt  fitting  tightly  over  the  Colonel’s 
coat  the  next  case  was  called.  Peter  was  asked  how  much  he  had,  and 
the  trembling  reply  was  : 

“  Only  a  dollar,  sir.” 

He  was  promptly  fined  that  amount,  also  for  meanness,  hoarding 
and  being  unjust  to  the  community  by  retaining  such  a  sum  for  his 
own  private  use. 

Stinginess  is  abominable  and  should  not  be  even  thought  of  by 
decent  Fijians.  In  one  of  the  tribes  amongst  whom  I  dwelt,  an 
incantation  was  said  over  newly-born  babes  to  preserve  them  from 
that  vice.  Four  days  after  birth  the  child  is  named,  the  ceremony 
in  a  way  somewhat  resembling  baptism.  A  large  kava  bowl  is  filled 
with  water  in  which  are  placed  as  many  prawns  and  little  river  fish 
as  the  vessel  will  hold.  The  infant  is  held  over  it  and  sprinkled  with 
water  and  given  its  name.  The  prawns  and  fish  are  then  handed 
over  to  be  cooked  and  distributed  amongst  the  village  children  for  a 
feast  in  celebration  of  the  new  arrival.  This  little  rite  is  supposed 
to  be  symbolical  of  generosity,  and  that  the  recent  addition  to  the 
community  will  always  be  prepared  to  share  all  things  with  his 
friends  and  comrades. 

A  youth  named  Thula  was  once  tried  in  my  Court  for  being 
feloniously  on  the  premises  of  a  European  storekeeper.  One  of  the 
witnesses,  a  native  labourer  in  the  latter’s  employ,  said  that  he  was 
carrying  up  bags  of  rice  and  flour  from  the  landing-stage  to  the 
warehouse,  and  that  the  accused  came  and  offered  to  help  him.  He 
declined  the  offer,  saying  : 


52  The  Resident  Commissioner 

“  Don’t  you  know  that  my  white  man  is  stingy,  and  you  would  not 
get  anything  for  your  trouble  !  ” 

Long,  long  ago,  before  I  went  to  Fiji,  there  was  a  white  man  in 
Levuka  who  was  accused  of  meanness  and  as  usual,  according  to 
custom,  the  natives  lampooned  him  in  a  little  vieke  or  rhyme.  As 
the  subject  of  it  died  more  than  fifty  years  ago,  I  think  I  may  give 
the  opening  verse  without  risking  an  action  for  libel. 

“  Oh  !  stingy  is  Mr.  Harman, 

His  hat  is  an  old  teapot, 

His  shirt  a  beche-de-mer  sack. 

His  belt  a  piece  of  coir  string. 

Oh  !  stingy  is  Mr.  Harman.” 

The  Resident  Commissioner  in  the  old  cotton  days  lived  on  a 
plantation  about  twenty-five  miles  up  the  Rewa.  The  lotu  or 
Christianity  had  penetrated  about  five  miles  further  up  stream. 
There  the  cannibal  country  commenced,  with  whose  people  Mr. 
Carew  soon  got  in  touch  and  acquired  much  influence  over  them. 
This  was  most  useful  in  assisting  to  establish  law  and  order,  and 
averted  a  good  deal  of  bloodshed.  When  King  Thakombau,  aided 
by  European  advisers,  succeeded  in  establishing  a  settled  form  of 
Government,  Mr.  Carew  became  Secretary  for  the  Province  of 
Naitasiri,  the  boundaries  of  which  marched  with  the  country  where 
dwelt  the  hill  tribes  of  Eastern  Viti  Levu.  Subsequently  on  the 
arrival  of  Sir  Arthur  Gordon,  the  first  Governor,  he  became  one  of 
His  Excellency’s  chief  advisers  in  native  affairs,  and  was  made 
Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  East,  and  during  the  troubles  of 
the  Little  War  he  held  a  dormant  commission  as  Deputy-Governor 
of  Viti  Levu. 

Staying  with  him  in  those  old  devil  days,  I  met  Ro  Seru,  whom 
I  have  mentioned  as  so  generously  offering  to  give  Mr.  Carew  one 
of  his  wives.  He  was  a  typical  old  cannibal  with  his  big  head  of  hair, 
scanty  bit  of  twisty  rag  by  way  of  dress,  and  blood-shot  eyes.  Exces¬ 
sive  yangona  or  kava  drinking  had  given  him  a  scaly,  leprous  look, 
reminding  me  of  what  I  had  read  of  mangy  man-eating  tigers.  He 
was  notorious,  even  among  his  own  people,  as  a  voracious  and  greedy 
cannibal.  On  one  of  his  visits  he  greatly  pleased  Carew  by  his 
stories  of  inland  life,  customs  and  folk-lore.  The  best  way  of 
rewarding  a  Fijian  is  by  giving  him  a  good  feed,  therefore,  when  his 
host  dismissed  him,  he  presented  him  with  a  tin  of  meat,  saying  : 

“  My  friend,  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  all  you  have  told  me 
to-day.  Here  is  a  tin  of  meat  such  as  we  white  men  eat.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  make  it  hot  and  eat  it. 


The  Resident  Commissioner 


53 

Ro  Seru,  with  an  old  retainer,  retired  to  a  hut  in  the  compound. 
Presently  he  burst  into  Carew’s  house  in  a  wild  state  of  excitement, 
his  hairy  chest  plastered  all  over  with  bits  of  carrot  and  turnip  and 
exclaimed  : 

“  Oh  !  Mr.  Carew,  my  friend,  I  cannot  say  how  much  I  respect 
you  white  gentlemen  !  Nothing  you  have  behaves  in  the  ordinary 
manner ;  your  guns  go  off  with  a  bang  and  so  does  your  food.” 

Although  he  had  been  scalded  by  hot  soup  he  was  simply  delighted 
with  his  new  experience.  What  really  happened  was  that  the  label 
had  come  off  the  tin,  which  contained  soup.  Also,  it  was  not  ex¬ 
plained  that  it  should  have  been  opened  before  being  heated.  Old 
Seru  had  never  seen  such  a  thing  before,  and  as  he  was  told  just  to 
make  it  hot,  he  put  it  on  a  fire  as  he  would  have  done  with  a  yam. 
As  the  tin  began  to  get  black  and  hot  he  turned  it  about  and  scraped 
it  with  a  mussel  shell,  as  would  also  have  been  done  in  roasting  a  yam. 
The  inevitable  explosion  followed  and  drenched  Ro  Seru  and  his 
henchman  with  the  scalding  contents.  Then  with  a  whoop  and  a 
yell  he  rushed  off  to  offer  his  felicitations  to  the  generous  donor,  and 
give  a  tribute  to  the  magic  and  mystery  of  the  wonderful  white  man. 

I  was  fortunate,  indeed,  in  serving  my  apprenticeship  under  so 
able  an  officer  as  Mr.  Carew.  Not  only  was  he  learned  in  all  native 
lore,  and  a  skilful  scholar  of  the  Fijian  language,  but  also  an  excellent 
lawyer.  The  Stipendiary  Magistrates,  besides  dealing  with  all 
summary  jurisdiction  cases,  dealt  with  civil  matters  where  the 
amount  involved  was  under  .£50,  for  which  purpose  they  were  Com¬ 
missioners  of  the  Supreme  Court.  All  cases  heard  by  them  were,  of 
course,  subject  to  revision  upon  appeal  to  the  High  Court.  I  am 
unable  to  recall  any  instance  in  which  Mr.  Carew’s  decisions  were 
reversed  by  it. 

Nandurulolo  was  a  busy  and  important  place,  as  the  Court  House 
for  the  Rewa  District  was  there  ;  it  was  the  residence  of  the 
Stipendiary  Magistrate,  and  daily  a  large  volume  of  business  was 
transacted.  As  Mr.  Carew  was  a  member  of  the  Executive  Council 
he  often  had  to  go  to  Suva  to  attend  it.  Important  matters  in  Tholo 
East  occasionally  called  him  there  also,  and  during  his  frequent 
absences  I  had  to  take  his  place  on  the  Lower  Rewa.  Thus  I  was 
pitchforked  at  once  into  the  midst  of  affairs,  and,  perforce,  had  to 
study  and  work  hard.  I  knew  a  smattering  of  Fijian,  and  under  the 
patriarchal  condition  of  affairs  in  the  hill  country  could  carry  on  all 
right,  where  I  only  had  my  simple  kai  Tholo  to  deal  with.  In  the 
lowlands  it  was  altogether  different.  There,  daily  disputes  between 
Europeans,  Indians  and  Fijians  had  to  be  tried,  all  of  which  were 


54  The  Resident  Commissioner 

complicated  by  the  appearance  in  Court  every  now  and  then  of 
lawyers  from  Suva.  I  knew  nothing  of  the  law,  and  I  remember, 
each  morning  as  I  woke  up  I  wondered  how  I  should  get  through 
the  day,  but  I  had  to  carry  on.  It  led  me,  however,  to  study.  I 
entered  my  name  on  the  list  of  candidates  for  admission  to  the 
Supreme  Court,  and  after  a  while  I  was  admitted  to  the  Fijian  Bar. 

The  junior  magistrates  were  often  unexpectedly  called  upon  to 
take  over  the  duties  of  their  seniors.  On  one  occasion  the  chief 
police  magistrate  at  Suva  was  unable  to  take  the  bench.  My  col¬ 
league  in  the  other  hill  province,  Tholo  West,  happened  to  be  in 
Suva  at  the  time,  and  was  called  upon  to  fill  the  vacancy.  He 
probably  knew  no  more  of  law  than  I  did.  Unfortunately  it  was  a 
day  on  which  the  magistrate  was  sitting  as  a  Commissioner  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  adjudicating  in  civil  matters,  petty  debts,  breaches 
of  contracts,  etc.  In  one  particular  case  a  leading  member  of  the 
Bar  appeared  for  the  defence,  and  after  the  evidence  for  the  plaintiff 
was  finished  he  moved  that  it  did  not  establish  the  claim  and  that  a 
non-suit  should  be  entered.  Then  flashed  through  His  Honour’s 
perturbed  brain,  what  the  deuce  was  a  non-suit  ?  His  brother,  a 
junior  officer  of  the  Native  Department,  happened  to  be  in  the 
private  office  behind  to  which  a  doorway  led,  across  which  was  only 
a  curtain  immediately  behind  the  judicial  chair.  Hastily  a  note  was 
scrawled  and  slipped  through  :  “  For  heaven’s  sake  go  round  to  the 
C.J.”  (a  mutual  friend  of  the  brothers)  “  and  find  out  what  a  non¬ 
suit  is.”  Looking  as  wise  as  he  could,  His  Honour  replied  that  as  it 
was  just  lunch  time  he  would  adjourn  the  Court  and  give  his  decision 
on  the  point  raised  after  the  recess. 

The  Stipendiary  Magistrates  in  those  days  used  to  call  themselves 
“  Maids  of  all  work.”  Not  only  had  we  judicial  duties,  but  we  were 
Receivers  of  Wrecks,  Coroners,  Postmasters,  our  own  District 
Engineers,  and  had  also  to  be  farmers,  and  grow  the  crops  necessary 
to  feed  our  police  and  the  prisoners  in  the  provincial  gaols.  Then 
we  had  to  instil  sanitary  measures  into  the  minds  of  the  villagers,  and 
teach  them  how  to  keep  and  milk  cows.  Incidentally,  in  connection 
with  this  latter  task,  we  had  to  give  instruction  to  the  native  women 
upon  how  to  use  feeding  bottles,  which  happened  to  be  the  pet  fad 
of  one  of  our  Governors.  Our  rulers  were  changed  every  few  years, 
and  upon  the  arrival  of  a  new  one  I  always  used  to  wonder  what  his 
particular  idiosyncracy  might  be.  Whatever  it  was,  the  district 
officers  had  to  play  up  to  it,  as  Fiji  used  to  be  a  Crown  Colony  of  a 
severe  type,  which  meant  His  Excellency  was  a  bit  of  an  autocrat, 
and  it  was  best  for  one  to  understand  his  bent,  if  possible.  Incident- 


The  Resident  Commissioner  55 

ally,  I  would  add,  we  were  miserable  failures  over  the  feeding  bottles. 
The  women  always  declared  they  would  never  use  them,  and  they 
didn’t.  Kipling  says  somewhere  that  in  India  the  people  always  say 
that  all  the  sahibs  are  mad,  only  some  are  madder  than  the  others. 
That  opinion  is  fully  shared  by  the  Fijians,  and  I  do  not  wonder  at 
it.  Many  scientific  gentlemen  were  passed  on  to  me  to  be  gently 
conducted  through  the  domains  of  the  hill  men.  Some  were  botanists, 
others  geologists,  ethnologists,  etc.,  etc.  Whatever  they  were,  the 
mountain  folk  spoke  of  them  in  reference  to  their  particular  hobby. 
The  botanists  they  called  turang-a  ni  drau  ni  kau  or  “  gentlemen  of 
the  leaves  of  trees  ”  ;  the  geologists  were  turang-a  tuki  vatu  or 
“  gentlemen  who  hammered  rocks,”  and  so  on.  One  of  these 
scientists  came  up  to  me  at  Nandarivatu.  At  that  cool  and  lovely 
spot  there  were  no  centipedes,  but  the  gentleman  was  interested  in 
them  and  said  he  would  like  to  procure  some.  I  told  him  that  if 
he  sent  a  shilling  into  the  low  country  he  would  get  what  he  wanted. 
That  was  a  want  of  foresight  on  my  part.  A  pickle  bottle  full  was 
sent  up  to  him.  What  he  did  not  piclde  himself  he  let  go,  and  every 
now  and  then  they  reminded  us  of  their  presence.  Fortunately,  in 
Fiji  their  bites  are  not  dangerous,  but  they  are  loathsome  and  dis¬ 
agreeable  little  pests. 

The  Resident  Commissioner  used  to  remark  that  Cicero  had  said 
that  magistrates  ought  to  be  men  of  leisure.  Speaking  for  myself, 
life  was  one  continual  state  of  toil  and  emergency,  and  having  to 
find  instant  remedies  for  every  conceivable  kind  of  contingency,  re¬ 
minding  me  of  the  Hindu  railway  official  in  charge  of  a  lonely  jungle 
station  who,  finding  a  tiger  on  the  premises  one  day,  bolted  himself 
into  his  office  and  telegraphed  to  headquarters  : 

“  Tiger  on  platform  ;  please  arrange.” 

There  were  always  tigers  about  in  my  district,  for  which  I  had  to 
arrange. 


CHAPTER.  V 

Wainimala 

THOLO  EAST  is  the  official  name  of  the  province  to 
which  I  was  appointed.  It  is  better  known  to  the 
people  themselves  as  Wainimala,  from  the  river  so  called, 
which  with  its  affluents  and  tributaries  spreads  in  a  veri¬ 
table  network  over  that  part  of  the  interior.  It  joins  the  Wainimbuka, 
the  main  head  of  the  Rewa,  at  the  southern  apex  of  Tholo  East  just 
below  the  village  marked  Matailombau  on  the  map.  Their  junction 
forms  the  Wai  Levu  or  Great  River,  called  the  Rewa  by  the  early 
cartographers,  from  the  native  town  of  that  name  near  its  mouth. 
It  joins  the  sea  just  opposite  the  islet  of  Nukulau,  now  the  quarantine 
station  for  Suva,  from  which  it  is  distant  six  miles.  This  islet,  which 
lies  at  the  head  of  Lauthala  Bay,  was  in  the  early  days  the  favourite 
anchorage  for  men-of-war,  whalers  and  traders,  and  from  it  started 
the  expedition  despatched  from  H.M.S.  Challenger  to  the  Wainimala, 
which  will  presently  be  alluded  to. 

Allowing  for  their  twists  and  bends,  both  the  Wainimbuka  and 
the  Wainimala  are  accessible  to  light  draught  boats,  the  former  for 
about  seventy  miles  and  the  latter  for  about  sixty  from  the  sea. 
cIakia,  the  canoes  constructed  for  river  work,  can  penetrate  inland 
still  further,  and  by  them  Viti  Levu  can  be  crossed  almost  entirely 
from  north  to  south.  A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  this.  Leaving 
Rukuruku  at  Viti  Levu  Bay,  on  the  extreme  northern  coast,  a  bridle 
track  of  eight  miles  leads  down  to  the  village  of  Lau,  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  Wainimbuka.  Embarking  there  on  a  takia ,  the  stream 
can  be  followed  down  until  it  meets  the  Wainimala.  From  thence 
one  can  go  by  motor-boat  right  down  to  Suva. 

Such  being  the  facilities  for  transport,  some  of  the  early  settlers 
started  cotton  plantations  on  the  fertile  alluvial  bottoms  of  these 
streams,  notwithstanding  they  were  in  the  cannibal  country.  They 
bought  their  holdings  from  the  native  owners  and  managed  to  get 
on  with  them  for  a  while.  The  position  was  always  a  bit  strained 
through  the  rude  and  boisterous  manners  of  the  tribesmen,  never- 

56 


Wainimala 


57 

theless  the  planters  held  on  all  right  until  about  a  year  after  the  death 
of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Baker.  Although  the  Wainimala  people  had 
had  no  hand  in  that  crime  it  reacted  on  them,  and  they  became 
insolent  and  threatening.  The  settlers,  getting  alarmed,  sought  the 
protection  of  the  British  Consul,  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  John)  Thurston, 
who  after  the  annexation  of  the  islands  by  Great  Britain  became  one 
of  our  Governors.  After  consultation  with  them  it  was  decided  to 
abandon  the  plantations  for  a  while  at  least.  This  was  done,  as  will 
be  shown,  but  it  is  but  fair  to  mention  that  when  peace  was  estab¬ 
lished  after  the  advent  of  British  rule,  the  natives  admitted  the 
validity  of  their  sales  of  the  lands  to  those  who  had  settled  among 
them,  to  whom,  after  due  investigation  by  the  new  Government, 
Crown  grants  were  issued. 

As  long  as  the  planters  remained  in  occupation,  although  subject 
to  a  great  deal  of  annoyance,  the  danger  was  not  perhaps  altogether 
acute.  However,  it  would  become  so  when  evacuation  commenced, 
as  the  natives,  seeing  their  erstwhile  guests  and,  in  a  measure,  their 
proteges  leaving,  would  resent  the  fact  and  conceive  that  they  then 
had  the  right  to  rush  in  and  plunder.  Such  would  be  the  trend  of 
native  thought.  Sir  John  Thurston,  aware  of  this,  sought  the  assist¬ 
ance  of  the  officer  commanding-in-chief  on  the  Australian  station, 
who  was  then  Commodore  Lambert.  He  responded  by  coming  down 
himself  in  his  flagship,  H.M.S.  Challenger.  He  anchored  at  Nukulau 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Rewa,  and  despatched  an  expedition  of  boats 
under  his  Flag-Commander  Brownrigg. 

To  the  scene  of  operations  at  Deoka,  just  below  the  junction  of 
the  Wainimbuka  and  the  Wainimala,  was  a  long,  strong  and  a  hard 
pull  for  some  forty-five  miles  against  the  swift  current,  and  meant 
camping  a  night  on  the  way.  I  several  times  passed  this  spot  in 
company  with  Sir  John  Thurston,  who  accompanied  the  Challenger's 
boats,  and  he  gave  me  a  graphic  description  of  what  happened  on 
that  disastrous  day. 

There  the  banks  rise  steeply  from  the  river  to  a  height  of  about 
forty  feet,  and  are  covered  with  thickets  of  bamboos,  tall  reeds  and 
trees.  The  stream  below  is  impeded  by  shallows  and  small  rapids 
over  which  boats  must  be  dragged.  The  tribesmen,  who  had  plenty 
of  old  smooth-bore  muskets,  seeing  the  approach  of  an  armed  and 
what  they  conceived  a  hostile  force,  promptly  opened  fire,  killing  and 
wounding  some  of  their  opponents.  They  were  answered  by  futile 
volleys  and  rocket  discharges  aimed  over  their  heads.  When  Sir  John 
Thurston  suggested  more  effective  means,  Commander  Brownrigg 
pulled  his  written  orders  out  of  his  pocket.  He  was  only  to  fire  over 


58  Wainimala 

the  natives’  heads  and  on  no  account  was  there  to  be  any  bloodshed, 
and  he  said  it  would  cost  him  his  commission  to  disobey  them.  The 
shadow  of  an  untoward  fate  was  over  him.  Some  years  afterwards 
he  was  killed  whilst  boarding  an  Arab  dhow,  when  he  was  the  captain 
in  command  of  H.M.S.  London ,  the  storeship  at  Zanzibar. 

In  face  of  all  this  the  settlers  were  got  together  and  taken  down 
the  river.  One  of  them  died  subsequently  from  wounds,  and  was 
buried  at  Laulau,  on  the  Middle  Rewa.  Sir  John  told  me  that  they 
had  great  trouble  with  an  Irish  lady,  the  wife  of  one  of  the  planters, 
who  positively  refused  to  leave  until  she  had  secured  her  favourite 
hen  and  the  eggs  she  was  sitting  on.  The  noise  of  the  firing  frightened 
the  bird  and  she  took  to  her  heels.  Not  so  her  mistress,  whose  sire 
had  been  one  of  the  long  service  redoubtables  in  a  celebrated  Irish 
regiment.  She  inherited  his  bravery  and  courage,  and  serenely  faced 
all  the  dangers  and  discomforts  of  the  retirement  in  face  of  the  enemy 
after  having  made  sure  of  her  precious  fowl.  Sir  John  Thurston  had 
many  anecdotes  about  her,  and  how  on  the  score  of  the  paternal 
services  to  the  Empire  and  her  own  determination  she  demanded  and 
usually  got  preferential  treatment. 

As  the  hillmen  had  suffered  no  casualties  whatever,  and  had  killed 
some  of  the  foe,  they  claimed  the  victory,  of  course.  It  was  no  use 
thereafter  threatening  them  with  men-of-war.  They  laughed  them 
to  scorn,  changing  manu-wa ,  their  mode  of  pronunciation  of  that 
word,  into  manu-da ,  a  filthy  term  unfit  for  translation  and  print. 
Students  of  naval  history  will  find  an  analogy  in  The  Autobiography 
of  a  Seaman,  in  which  Lord  Dundonald,  the  author,  describes  the 
insult  offered  to  the  British  ensign  captured  from  the  Calcutta,  one 
of  our  old  East  Indiamen,  which  was  hung  under  the  quarter-gallery 
of  one  of  the  French  ships  in  the  Basque  Roads. 

These  Wainimala  people,  however,  did  not  interfere  with  the 
European  settlers,  but  in  1872  they  made  a  treacherous  attack  on  a 
native  Christian  village  on  the  border  of  the  lotu  country  in  the 
Naitasiri  province,  and  killed  and  ate  some  of  the  inhabitants.  These 
were  feudatories  of  Thakombau,  and  their  death  caused  His  Majesty 
to  take  the  field  against  the  disturbers  of  his  peace.  By  that  time  he 
had  established  a  settled  form  of  government  with  the  aid  of  the 
leading  Europeans  of  the  group,  foremost  among  whom  was  Mr. 
J.  B.  Thurston,  who  had  been  British  Consul.  This,  in  the  opinion 
of  the  Upper  Rewa  tribes,  definitely  arrayed  the  whites  against  them, 
and  in  consequence  they  began  to  send  threatening  messages  to  the 
infant  settlement  at  Suva,  which  they  said  they  would  plunder  and 
burn  when  they  had  settled  their  score  with  Thakombau,  I  was 


Wainimala  59 

living  there,  and  I  remember  we  were  rather  concerned  at  the  time, 
as  the  natives  on  the  western  shores  of  the  harbour  were  closely 
related  to  the  people  in  arms  against  the  Government,  and  it  was 
through  them  that  we  heard  of  their  friends’  intentions.  They  sat 
upon  the  rail  for  a  while,  but  when  fortune  inclined  to  the  royalists 
they  too  became  ardently  so. 

As  long  as  we  were  not  taken  by  surprise  we  felt  that  we  could 
easily  hold  our  own.  We  had  seen  some  tribal  fighting  and  thought 
that  we  understood  its  system.  When  parties  on  the  war  trail  met 
there  was  much  interchange  of  abuse,  boasting  and  challenges  to 
mortal  combat.  Then  should  a  man  fall,  the  side  to  which  he  be¬ 
longed  promptly  bolted.  Victory  always  inclined  to  the  side  which 
made  the  first  kill,  as  it  was  the  custom,  and  indeed  the  correct  thing, 
for  the  others  to  run.  I  have  managed  with  great  difficulty  to  piece 
together  the  histories  of  the  principal  hill  tribes,  and  have  succeeded 
in  getting  records  of  nearly  three  hundred  years.  Although  they 
relate  to  a  period  of  almost  unbroken  warfare,  but  little  blood  was 
actually  shed.  They  harried  and  chased  each  other,  frequently  burn¬ 
ing  villages,  which  were  speedily  replaced  by  others.  The  land  was 
but  sparsely  populated,  and  there  was  plenty  of  uninhabited  country 
for  the  fugitives  to  take  refuge  in.  The  impression  on  my  mind  after 
some  study  of  their  legends  and  folklore  stories  is  that  life  in  the  hills 
in  the  olden  times  was  like  a  huge  game  of  hide-and-seek.  Com¬ 
munities  would  build  villages,  become  prosperous  and  arrogant,  and 
excite  the  jealousy  of  their  neighbours,  who  would  then  enter  into 
alliances  with  other  clans  and  attack  the  common  object  of  their 
envy.  After  desultory  fighting,  sacking  and  burning  of  villages,  the 
weaker  side  would  flee  further  back  into  the  almost  inaccessible  part 
of  the  hills.  Both  sides  by  that  time  would  be  tired  and  fatigued 
with  the  fighting,  and  the  defeated  party  would  get  time  to  recu¬ 
perate  and  reorganise.  Then  they  would  probably  retaliate  on  their 
foes  and  turn  the  tables. 

It  should  not  be  inferred  from  this  that  the  Fijians  are  cowards. 
We  and  they  have  different  modes  of  thought — that  is  all.  They 
will  do  many  things  that  we  should  hesitate  about.  They  think 
nothing  of  swimming  across  shark-infested  waters,  which  a  white  man 
would  consider  suicide  to  attempt.  The  big  navigable  rivers  were 
infested  with  small  freshwater  sharks,  and  I  have  known  a  good  few 
incidents  of  men,  women  and  children  being  killed  by  them,  yet  it 
never  stopped  their  using  the  streams  for  highways.  I  have  often 
heard  the  voice  of  song  arising  from  the  river  below  as  I  sat  in  my 
house  on  the  high  bank  above  and,  looking  down,  have  seen  the 


6o 


Wainimala 


surface  of  the  stream  dotted  with  little  black  heads,  a  merry  band 
of  children  swimming  either  to  their  games  or  to  school.  On  one 
such  an  occasion  a  boy  had  the  whole  of  a  thigh  torn  away  by  a 
river  shark.  Fortunately,  Dr.  Corney,  afterwards  and  for  so  many 
years  Chief  Medical  Officer  of  Fiji,  was  on  a  visit  at  the  time  to  the 
Messrs.  Ansdell,  the  sons  of  the  celebrated  painter,  who  had  a  coffee 
plantation  just  at  the  junction  of  the  Wainimala  and  Wainimbuka 
Rivers.  The  youth  was  carried  there,  and  Dr.  Corney  tied  up  his 
arteries  and  stopped  the  bleeding.  Mrs.  Ansdell  nursed  the  boy  with 
great  devotion  for  some  six  or  seven  weeks  ;  then  he  returned  to  his 
village  at  Nakorovatu,  alongside  of  which  I  resided  for  eight  years. 
Takanakia,  who  was  thus  restored  to  health,  entered  the  Government 
service  and  was  for  many  years  the  scribe  or  native  clerk  of  his  dis¬ 
trict.  As  he  had  lain  ill  for  six  weeks  on  the  Ansdells’  plantation,  on 
his  return  home  his  parents  went  thither  and  demanded  wages  for 
their  boy  for  that  period. 

It  is  really  almost  dangerous  to  save  life,  or  do  any  great  service 
to  a  native.  It  seems  to  give  those  so  benefited  an  unanswerable 
claim  on  the  person  conferring  the  service.  When  I  became  the 
Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  North  the  people  of  Vatusila,  the 
slayers  of  Mr.  Baker,  were  within  my  jurisdiction.  A  small  boy  there 
fell  into  the  rocky  bed  of  the  Singatoka  and  broke  his  leg.  It  appeared 
to  me  that  his  kinsmen  did  not  want  to  have  the  trouble  of  looking 
after  him,  so  I  had  him  brought  to  Nandarivatu,  and  I  asked  the 
medical  officer  living  at  Mba,  some  thirty  miles  away,  to  come  up 
and  set  his  leg.  He  did  so,  and  for  a  long  time  after  the  youth  used 
to  make  a  levy  on  me  for  his  sulus  or  waist  cloths  and  any  other  article 
that  he  fancied.  It  was  the  custom,  and  I  was  expected  to  fall  in 
with  it.  I  always  looked  upon  it  as  a  huge  game,  which  I  attempted 
to  play  according  to  the  rules.  On  another  occasion  a  man  was  ripped 
up  by  a  wild  boar  whilst  out  hunting  near  Nandarivatu.  His  friends 
promptly  brought  him  in  and  deposited  him  in  our  little  infirmary, 
and  I  had  to  doctor  him.  My  efforts  were  successful,  and  ever  after¬ 
wards  the  old  gentleman  considered  that  I  had  to  provide  for  him 
for  the  rest  of  his  life.  This  is  a  very  long  digression,  but  I  was 
tempted  to  it  in  order  to  try  and  throw  a  little  light  on  some  phases 
of  the  native  mind.  Barring  these  little  peculiarities  the  Fijian  is 
brave. 

As  drilled  men  in  the  armed  forces  of  the  country  they  made 
admirable  soldiers  and  would  follow  their  officers  to  the  death.  When 
I  was  in  England  at  King  Edward’s  coronation  with  a  party  of  the 
Armed  Native  Constabulary  I  was  one  day  accidentally  jostled  by 


Wainimala 


61 


some  men  of  the  West  Indian  Regiment  as  we  were  detraining  at 
Southampton,  whither  we  had  gone  to  see  the  ships  of  war  assembled 
for  the  great  review.  My  fellows  saw  the  incident,  and  it  was  all  I 
could  do  to  stop  them  from  forthwith  pitching  into  the  supposed 
delinquents.  Sir  John  Thurston  told  me  of  a  somewhat  similar 
incident  that  occurred  in  New  Zealand  upon  the  occasion  of  the 
jubilee  of  the  founding  of  Auckland.  The  Earl  of  Onslow,  Governor 
of  New  Zealand,  Earl  Carrington,  Governor  of  New  South  Wales, 
and  our  Governor  of  Fiji  all  foregathered  there  for  the  rejoicings 
that  marked  the  day.  Democracy  is  the  order  out  there,  and  the 
Governors  set  off  together  without  any  guards  or  formalities.  They 
just  mingled  with  the  crowd  and  got  jostled  a  bit.  Sir  John  Thurston, 
however,  had  his  two  orderlies  with  him,  great  big,  burly  six-foot 
men,  privates  in  the  Armed  Native  Constabulary,  my  old  corps.  They 
took  good  care  to  shoulder  off  any  one  who  came  too  near  Sir  John. 
After  the  ceremony,  when  their  Excellencies  had  returned  to  Govern¬ 
ment  House,  one  of  the  other  Governors  began  to  chaff  the  orderlies 
and  asked  them  why  they  had  not  also  protected  them.  The  reply 
was  :  “  If  you  like  to  let  the  white  men,  your  own  people,  hustle  and 
treat  you  so,  that  is  a  matter  between  you  and  them,  but  they  are 
not  going  to  treat  our  man  like  that  !  ” 

Fijians  are  quite  simple  and  frank  in  acknowledging  the  sentiment 
of  fear.  Unlike  us,  they  are  not  ashamed  of  being  thought  frightened. 
One  of  them  told  me  his  adventures  in  the  Solomon  Islands,  whither 
he  had  gone  in  a  schooner  trying  to  engage  labour  for  the  plantations. 
That  was  always  a  most  hazardous  enterprise  and  many  got  knocked 
on  the  head  whilst  at  it  or,  worse  still,  wounded  with  poisoned  arrows, 
which  usually  entailed  a  dreadful  death  from  tetanus.  To  use  his 
own  words :  “  One  day  I  went  up  a  river,  as  one  of  the  boat’s  crew, 
and  I  saw  a  large  armed  party  concealed  on  one  of  the  banks.  I  got 
very  frightened  and  pointed  it  out  to  Dick,  our  white  man  in  charge 
of  the  boat.  He  laughed,  and  said  there  was  no  danger.  ‘  No 
danger,’  I  replied.  ‘  Just  look  at  me  ;  I  am  trembling  all  over  and 
very  much  in  fear,  and  I  never  get  that  way  unless  I  am  in  danger.’  ” 
I  happened  to  be  in  Suva  once  when  one  of  the  rare  cases  of  a  Fijian 
being  tried  for  murder  was  proceeding  in  the  Supreme  Court.  The 
prisoner  was  found  guilty  of  having  killed  the  Mbuli  of  Moturiki, 
the  head  man  of  his  district.  When  he  was  asked  why  sentence  of 
death  should  not  be  passed  upon  him,  he  answered  simply,  “  I  am 
afraid  to  die.” 

Knowing  as  we  did  in  Suva  the  native  ideas  of  fighting,  we  felt 
just  a  bit  anxious  as  to  who  would  draw  first  blood  in  the  struggle 


62  Wainimala 

between  King  Thakombau’s  forces  and  the  tevoro  or  cannibals.  We 
were  armed  and  had,  of  course,  taken  steps  to  repel  any  attack.  One 
lovely  moonlight  night  the  big  war  drums  at  Lami,  the  village  at  the 
head  of  the  harbour,  began  to  boom  forth.  We  wondered  what  it 
portended,  as  we  knew  that  the  people  there  were  kinsmen  of  those 
in  arms  against  the  Government.  Presently  we  saw  a  flotilla  of  canoes 
coming  across  the  bay,  from  which  muskets  were  being  discharged 
and  from  which  we  heard  yells  and  war  whoops.  What  did  it  mean  ? 
Had  King  Thakombau  been  defeated,  and  was' the  threatened  attack 
on  Suva  about  to  take  place  ?  We  mustered  at  the  little  wharf  at 
the  mouth  of  the  small  creek,  the  Numbukalou,  which  was  then  our 
landing-place.  To  get  there  we  had  to  cross  a  primitive  swing-bridge, 
and  passing  over  it  an  excited  gentleman  immediately  behind  me 
slipped  and  fell.  His  rifle  went  off,  the  bullet  flying  between  my 
legs.  But  we  had  no  cause  for  alarm,  as  those  on  the  canoes  came  to 
report  a  Government  victory.  The  King’s  levies  had  encountered 
a  party  of  the  enemy,  some  of  whom  had  fallen,  and  consequently 
the  big  heads  had  burnt  their  nearest  villages  and  retired  further  into 
the  interior.  Therefore  His  Majesty  had  ordered  that  all  the  war 
drums  in  his  dominions  should  be  beaten  and  salutes  fired,  that  all 
the  world  might  know  that  fortune  and  the  first  blood  was  on  his 
side,  a  portent  of  final  victory. 

A  few  days  after  I  was  on  the  Lower  Rewa,  of  which  district  Ratu 
Napoleon  was  the  Lieutenant-Governor,  the  chief  who  had  so  sternly 
set  his  face  against  hoarding  and  selfishness.  He  was  busy  then  in 
mobilising  his  vassals  in  order  to  join  King  Thakombau,  his  liege  lord. 
His  Majesty,  with  the  main  body  of  his  army,  was  at  that  time  at 
Nathoka-ika,  the  village  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  at  the  great 
bend  of  the  Rewa  just  above  Naitasiri,  whilst  his  eldest  son,  Ratu 
Epeli,  was  with  the  advanced  guard  a  little  further  up  on  the  left 
bank,  the  troops  under  Napoleon’s  command  forming  the  reserve. 
The  latter’s  warriors  mustered  in  full  war-paint,  armed  with  all  sorts 
of  weapons  from  the  latest  breech-loaders  to  flint-locks,  clubs  and 
spears.  Very  proud  were  the  fortunate  possessors  of  guns,  and  eager 
to  excite  admiration  by  frequently  letting  them  off.  Nothing  pleases 
a  Fijian  more  than  a  good  loud  bang,  and  many  charges  of  powder 
and  shot  were  usually  expended  ere  the  scene  of  action  was  reached. 
Fire  discipline  was  an  unknown  quantity,  and  the  question  for  native 
commanders,  if  they  ever  thought  of  such  a  thing,  was  how  to  arrive 
at  the  front  with  any  ammunition  at  all.  But  the  loud  bangs  and 
the  cheers  they  elicited  were  very  encouraging,  and  stimulated  the 
spirits  of  the  army.  However,  the  supply  of  firearms  was  limited, 


Wainimala  63 

the  greatest  number  of  the  rank  and  file  being  equipped  with  club 
and  spear,  the  national  weapons  of  old  Fiji.  The  uniforms  may  be 
described  as  being  chiefly  “  cleared  for  action,”  as,  like  our  blue¬ 
jackets  in  the  days  of  Nelson,  the  belligerents  usually  stripped  for  a 
fight.  But  what  was  lacking  in  clothing  was  made  up  in  red,  white 
and  black  paint,  fantastic  head-dresses,  turbans  and  kilts  of  leaves 
and  grasses.  There  were  no  roads  in  those  days,  and  the  march  was 
in  single  rank  on  the  narrow  tracks  bordering  the  Rewa  River,  the 
great  highway  to  the  interior.  The  long,  spread-out  columns  in 
Indian  file,  bedizened  and  decked  out  in  all  the  pomp  and  circum¬ 
stance  of  glorious  war,  with  fluttering  pennons  and  banners  of  native 
cloth,  formed  quite  a  magnificent  and  imposing  spectacle.  The 
broad  waters  of  the  river  were  covered  by  an  immense  flotilla  of  takia 
or  river  canoes,  propelled  by  the  lusty  arms  of  boys  and  women,  the 
Army  Service  Corps.  In  war  it  was  always  the  duty  of  the  women, 
assisted  by  the  stoutest  of  the  boys,  to  feed  the  warriors,  and  usually 
they  performed  the  duty  most  efficiently.  I  remember  with  what 
admiration  I  regarded  those  willing  toilers  who  followed  their 
husbands,  sons  and  lovers  to  the  field.  They  took  a  pride  in  supply¬ 
ing  them  with  all  the  delicacies  of  the  sea  coast — fish,  cockles,  native 
lobsters,  coco-nut  and  taro  puddings,  etc.,  and  willingly  and  cheer¬ 
fully,  with  many  a  laugh  and  joke,  did  they  endure  the  hardships  of 
campaigning. 

Afterwards,  when  King  Thakombau  had  brought  his  operations  to 
a  successful  issue,  I  saw  the  feudal  levies  returning  with  the  spoils 
of  war,  which  consisted  principally  of  great  stacks  of  yams  and  taro, 
the  produce  of  the  gardens  of  the  vanquished  hill  people.  The  ascent 
of  the  river  is  toilsome  and  arduous,  only  to  be  accomplished  by  the 
lightest  of  craft,  but  owing  to  the  strength  of  the  current  the  return 
is  easy.  The  usual  method  for  bringing  the  inland  produce  to  the 
coast  is  by  means  of  rafts  made  of  bamboos,  which  abound  in  the 
interior,  lining  the  river  banks.  They  are  easy  to  get  and  cheap,  and 
when  they  have  reached  their  destination  can  be  abandoned.  It  was 
on  these  craft  that  the  loot  from  the  hills  was  carried,  part  of  which 
consisted  of  the  great  big  wooden  lali  or  war  drums,  several  of  which 
are  to  be  found  in  each  village.  They  give  forth,  when  beaten,  a 
hollow  booming  noise,  rather  musical  when  heard  in  the  distance. 
By  means  of  them  telegraphic  communication  can  be  kept  up  between 
the  hamlets  and  strongholds  of  tribal  communities,  and  like  our  drums 
they  have  their  various  rolls  and  calls.  As  I  encountered  the  victors 
returning  home  they  were  sounding  “  the  highest  points  of  war.” 
Everything  that  could  be  seized  had  been  taken.  Mr.  Carcw,  who 


64  Wainimala 

always  had  a  soft  place  in  his  heart  for  the  inland  people,  indignantly 
said  to  Ratu  Napoleon,  who  with  his  rear-guard  had  managed  to  get 
up  in  time  for  the  sacking  of  the  villages,  “  What  a  lot  of  robbers 
you  are  !  You  have  carried  off  everything  except  the  fragments 
of  the  earthenware  cooking  pots,  which  you  have  smashed  into 
smithereens.” 

“  Oh  !  ”  laughingly  replied  that  redoubtable  warrior,  “  we’d  have 
brought  them  away,  too,  if  they  had  been  of  any  use.” 

Before  His  Majesty’s  successful  campaign  closed  much  fighting, 
vakaviti,  or  according  to  the  manner  of  Fiji,  occurred.  After  his 
troops  had  scored  first  blood  by  slaying  one  of  the  enemy  in  the 
initial  skirmish,  the  latter  retired  into  a  fortified  village  called  Nan- 
gali,  on  the  Wai-indina,  close  to  its  junction  with  the  Rewa,  near 
Viria,  which  latter  was  always  an  important  place,  and  in  those  days 
a  cannibal  stronghold.  These  places  were  besieged  in  the  usual  casual 
native  style,  until  the  garrisons  got  tired  of  defending  them.  Then, 
in  the  small  hours,  when  the  river  fog  hung  heavy  around,  and  their 
assailants  were  steeped  in  that  sweet  and  heavy  sleep  when,  as  the 
native  proverb  puts  it,  “  The  pillow  slips  from  beneath  the  slum- 
berer’s  head,”  they  silently  stole  away,  the  last  to  leave  firing  the 
houses  so  that  they  would  afford  no  shelter  to  the  foe.  Then  the 
besiegers,  awakened  by  the  roar  and  crackling  of  the  conflagration, 
would  find  that  their  opponents  had  safely  escaped.  Never  mind  ! 
it  was  another  glorious  victory  to  be  proclaimed  once  more  to  His 
Majesty’s  lieges  by  the  village  drums  throughout  his  dominions. 

The  enemy  made  their  next  stand  at  a  stronghold  called  Nasoro- 
vakawalu,  which  means  “  eight  times  atoned  for,”  from  the  number 
of  its  previous  sieges.  His  Majesty  sat  down  before  it  for  a  very  long 
time,  and  we  civilians  and  non-combatants  thought  he  would  never 
take  the  place.  He  had  with  him  a  half-company  of  the  regular 
infantry  which,  under  its  white  officers,  was  surely  and  steadily 
subjugating  the  cannibals  in  the  western  hills.  But  he  refused  to 
allow  his  trained  men  to  carry  Nasorovakawalu  by  assault.  They 
were  eager  to  do  so,  and  without  doubt  they  would  have  been 
successful,  but  they  were  studiously  kept  in  the  background. 
Thakombau  meant  to  conduct  the  operations  in  his  own  way,  and 
would  brook  no  interference.  All  the  glory  was  to  be  his.  He  used 
to  watch  the  European  officers  drilling  their  men,  and  said  it  was  a 
very  pretty  sight,  so  much  so  that  he  thought  he  would  send  them 
down  to  his  own  royal  city  at  Mbau  to  amuse  the  women. 

Once  more  the  advantage  of  sea  power  was  demonstrated.  The 
hillmen  were  cut  off  from  the  coast,  they  could  not  replenish  their 


Tinga  Throwers. 

The  annual  game  played  at  the  sprouting  of  the  yams.  The  reeds  used  then  have  hard  wood 
heads,  called  ulutoa,  a  relic  of  ancient  phallic  worship. 


Lali  or  Wooden  Drums. 

Formerly  used  as  calls  to  war,  cannibal  feasts  and  to  signal  movements  of  the  enemy,  etc. 
Now.  like  our  own  bells,  they  summon  people  to  Church. 


Wainimala  65 

stock  of  ammunition,  and  it  began  to  give  out.  As  long  as  they  had 
a  charge  of  powder  they  held  on  using  broken  bottles  for  projectiles. 
Then  they  effected  the  usual  bolt  and  retired  further  inland.  But  as 
their  munitions  were  failing,  and  they  could  not  be  heartened  up  by 
the  cheering  bangs  of  well-charged  guns,  they  thought  it  time  to 
give  in.  Heralds  were  sent  in  with  strings  of  whales’  teeth  to  soro 
or  beg  His  Majesty’s  pardon  and  sue  humbly  for  peace. 

Thakombau  thought  enough  had  been  done  for  honour  and  glory, 
and  he  and  all  his  people  were  heartily  tired  of  fighting.  So  he 
accepted  the  overtures  and  a  peace  was  patched  up.  So  was  ended 
what  had  been  quite  a  pleasant  military  promenade  for  the  young 
gentlemen  of  the  feudal  forces.  Suva,  where  I  was  living  at  the  time, 
was  one  of  His  Majesty’s  most  loyal  fiefs,  and  duly  sent  its  quota  of 
warriors  to  the  royal  army.  Some  of  them  when  they  came  down 
on  leave  used  to  call  in  to  tell  me  their  adventures.  One  day  I  saw 
a  strange-looking  article  slung  round  the  neck  of  one  of  them.  On 
asking  what  it  was  I  was  told  with  a  jaunty  air  :  “  Oh  !  just  a  hill 
fish,  sir.”  On  examination  it  proved  to  be  the  smoke-dried  head  and 
gills  of  one.  The  reply  was  made  with  much  pride  as  much  as  to  say, 
“  Am  I  not  brave  to  have  brought  such  a  trophy  from  the  dreaded 
cannibal  country  ?  ” 

One  effect  of  the  campaign  was  that  many  powerful  tribes  who 
were  wavering  between  Christianity  and  the  old  way  boldly  came 
over  to  the  lotu,  and  “  put  on  the  cloth.”  Of  such  were  the  people 
of  Matailombau,  Soloira  and  Naileng-a,  but  certain  irreconcilables, 
the  Nandaravakawalu,  Muaira,  Noemalu  and  Nangarawai  clans, 
dwellers  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  very  centre  of  Viti  Levu,  still 
remained  heathens  and  cannibals.  They  formed  a  small  con¬ 
federation  under  the  name  of  Lomai  Tholo,  i.e.  the  central  high¬ 
lands.  They,  with  the  three  previously  mentioned,  constituted  the 
province  of  Tholo  East  or  Wainimala,  when,  after  Queen  Victoria’s 
assumption  of  sovereignty,  the  country  became  a  British  colony. 

Before  long  fighting  broke  out  between  the  newly  converted 
people  of  Matailombau  and  the  still  tevoro  dwellers  in  Lomai  Tholo, 
in  which  the  Christian  party  was  worsted.  They  sued  for  peace, 
which  was  granted  on  terms  including  the  payment  of  an  indemnity. 
That  was  some  time  in  1873,  and  when  I  took  up  my  appointment  in 
Tholo  East  eleven  years  after,  in  1884,  the  last  instalment  of  the 
debt  was  being  paid.  In  1874  the  Union  Jack  was  hoisted,  and  Fiji 
came  under  our  rule.  The  lotu  or  Christianity  in  the  meantime 
slowly  but  surely  crept  still  further  into  the  hill  country.  A  small  but 
ancient  clan,  Mboumbutho  by  name,  living  in  the  valleys  of  the 

E 


66  Wainimala 

Nasongo  and  Wailoa  Rivers,  both  of  which  rise  in  Mount  Victoria, 
which  after  uniting  discharge  themselves  into  the  Wainimala  at 
Undu,  put  on  “  the  cloth.”  Thereupon  their  nearest  cannibal  neigh¬ 
bours  in  Muaira  began  to  annoy  and  ill-treat  them,  among  other 
things  violating  the  cave  which  formed  the  mausoleum  of  the  head 
family  of  the  newly  converted  tribe.  Fijians  are  adepts  at  the  art  of 
petty  annoyance.  I  remember  hearing  of  one  tribe  about  to  join  the 
lotu  being  much  exasperated  by  the  sneers  of  their  heathen  neigh¬ 
bours,  who  sent  over  to  inquire  if  they  had  a  plentiful  supply  of 
small  mirrors  or  trade  looking-glasses.  Being  asked  the  reason  of  their 
question  the  reply  was  :  “  Oh  !  we  thought  you  would  like  to 
practise  before  a  glass  how  to  put  on  a  sanctimonious  look,  like  a 
Wesleyan  native  minister.” 

The  Mboumbutho  people  appealed  to  the  newly  formed  Govern¬ 
ment  for  protection.  It  was  time  to  close  all  disturbances  inland. 
The  duly  trained  infantry  force  had,  for  the  time  being  at  any  rate, 
effected  the  subjugation  of  the  western  tribes.  A  company  of  it 
was  therefore  detailed  for  operations  in  Lomai  Tholo,  or  the 
central  highlands.  Under  the  new  era  it  was  embarked  partly  on 
H.M.S.  Renard ,  one  of  the  war  schooners  employed  for  police  duty 
in  the  Western  Pacific,  and  in  some  local  craft.  This  force  was  under 
the  command  of  Major  James  Harding,  who  had  distinguished 
himself,  and  been  severely  wounded  in  the  western  campaign. 
Levuka  was  then  the  capital  of  the  group,  and  the  expedition  sailing 
from  thence  disembarked  at  Viti  Levu  Bay  on  the  northern  coast  of 
the  mainland. 

It  marched  through  the  Nalawa  country  in  the  Wainimbuka 
valley,  and  mounting  the  dividing  range  descended  into  the  water¬ 
shed  of  the  Wainimala,  which  was  to  be  the  scene  of  its  operations. 
The  people  of  the  Lomai  Tholo  confederation  put  up  a  very  fair 
fight,  but  the  trained  troops  of  the  Government  swept  everything 
before  them.  It  was  a  piece  of  warfare  altogether  different  from 
that  waged  by  King  Thakombau  a  couple  of  years  previously.  Some 
of  the  enemy  were  closely  related  to  Ro  Seru,  Mr.  Carew’s  friend,  of 
whom  mention  has  been  made.  He  belonged  to  a  branch  of  the 
great  Solo-i-ra  tribe,  which  for  some  time  had  ranged  itself  definitely 
on  the  Government  side.  His  relatives  made  known  to  him  their 
desire  to  submit  and  he,  I  believe,  at  once  went  to  Mr.  Carew  and 
asked  him  to  intervene.  That  gentleman  accordingly  made  his  way 
inland  with  a  large  quantity  of  European  cloth,  the  acceptance  of 
which  would  mean  the  renunciation  of  cannibalism,  and  adhesion 
to  the  new  state  of  affairs.  He  was  met  by  the  leading  chiefs  of  the 


Wainimala 


67 

little  inland  confederation  who  at  once  donned  the  sulu  or  waistcloth 
of  the  lotu ,  and  this  was  the  final  close  of  hostilities  in  the  eastern 
highlands.  When  two  years  afterwards  their  kinsmen  in  the  west 
revolted  and  caused  the  “  Little  War  ”  they  remained  firm  in  their 
new  allegiance,  and  took  the  field  in  support  of  it. 

Mr.  Carew  has  often  told  me  of  his  first  entrance  into  Narokoro- 
koyawa,  the  chief  village  of  Noemalu,  the  leading  clan  of  Lomai 
Tholo.  Ro  Vuthang-o  its  Vuninalu  or  great  fighting  chief,  a  most 
redoubtable  warrior,  to  the  clang  of  whose  arms  the  whole  interior 
had  for  many  years  resounded,  met  him  at  the  outskirts,  and  taking 
his  hand  led  him  to  the  principal  house.  He  was  more  than  seventy 
years  of  age  and  died  the  next  year.  He  was  quite  toothless,  and 
explained  it  by  saying  that  it  was  caused  through  eating  some  of  his 
near  relations.  When  that  is  done  one  always  loses  one’s  teeth.  He 
said  that  he  had  found  a  young  relative  in  his  women’s  quarters,  and 
native  law  and  custom  demanded  his  death  and  consumption  at  the 
hands  of  the  aggrieved  party.  Only  in  such  a  way  could  the  matter 
be  dealt  with  honourably.  Vuthang-o’s  death,  which  occurred  in 
the  early  part  of  1875,  was  caused  by  measles,  a  scourage  hitherto 
unknown  in  Fiji.  It  swept  away  about  a  third  of  the  population, 
and  was  the  prime  reason  for  the  outbreak  in  the  west,  and  the  cause 
of  Sir  Arthur  Gordon’s  “  Little  War.”  There  the  people  ascribed 
the  new  mysterious  malady  to  the  wrath  of  the  ancestral  gods.  This 
belief  was,  of  course,  fanned  by  the  old  hereditary  caste  of  priests  who 
had  lost  the  influence  and  emoluments  of  their  office  through  the 
new  dispensation.  Against  this  they  preached,  and  predicted  the 
utter  destruction  of  the  people  unless  they  returned  to  the  old  way, 
and  once  more  propitiated  the  spirits  of  their  forebears  by  human 
sacrifices  and  cannibal  rites.  Thus  adjured  the  western  hill  tribes 
“  threw  off  the  cloth,”  attacked  their  Christian  neighbours,  and 
offered  the  spiritual  essence  of  the  slain  to  the  old  gods,  whilst  they 
consumed  the  material  parts.  That  is  the  danger  of  heathenism  in 
Fiji ;  it  cannot  be  maintained  properly  without  human  sacrifices. 
Throughout  my  twenty-six  years’  residence  among  the  hill  tribes  the 
old  spirit  lurked  beneath  the  surface.  Many  prophecies  were  made 
by  those  who  secretly  adhered  to  the  ancient  faith.  The  failure  of 
these  predictions  was  always  attributed  to  the  want  of  the  one  thing 
essential — the  human  offerings.  I  always  feared  that  this  excuse 
would  lead  to  the  murder  of  some  old  woman  or  other  helpless 
beings,  because  as  long  as  the  sacrifice  was  human  the  gods  were 
indifferent  as  to  whether  they  were  but  infants,  females  or  old 
people.  An  old  chief  once  told  me  it  was  blood  that  was  required. 


68  Wainimala 

Measles  in  my  time  marked  a  distinct  epoch  in  native  life.  I  used 
to  hear  the  people  talk  of  “  just  about  the  time  ”  of  them,  or  so 
many  “  years  before  or  after.”  Now  I  believe  the  new  generations 
educated  in  the  Government  and  Mission  schools  give  you  dates  and 
years  instead.  Besides,  the  measles  have  since  then  occasionally 
made  their  appearance,  but  being  met  by  the  medical  service  of  the 
Colony  have  not  had  the  dire  effects  of  the  first  epidemic.  Neverthe¬ 
less,  whenever  they  were  prevalent  they  used  to  cause  the  greatest 
anxiety  to  the  district  officers  from  the  happy-go-lucky  habits  of  the 
people,  who  were  as  a  rule  too  easy-going  to  take  proper  care  of 
themselves. 

Unfortunately  their  first  introduction  is  closely  connected  with 
the  assumption  of  British  rule.  Sir  Hercules  Robinson,  afterwards 
Lord  Rosmead,  was  Governor  of  New  South  Wales  at  the  time.  He 
negotiated  the  Deed  of  Cession,  placing  Fiji  under  the  sovereignty 
of  Queen  Victoria.  After  it  had  been  signed  by  the  leading  chiefs 
he  invited  King  Thakombau  to  visit  him  in  Sydney,  and  for  that 
purpose  H.M.S.  Dido  was  assigned  for  his  conveyance  thither. 
He  went  accompanied  by  a  large  native  suite.  After  a  stay  of  some 
little  time  His  Majesty  returned  in  the  same  ship-of-war,  which 
landed  him  at  Levuka.  One  of  his  attendants  immediately  developed 
measles  which  spread  like  fire  throughout  the  group,  destroying  alike 
the  dwellers  in  the  remotest  hills  of  Viti  Levu  and  the  people  of  the 
furthest  isles  and  islets. 

Ro  Vuthang-o,  the  old  Wainimala  chief,  left  three  sons,  all  middle- 
aged.  The  second  of  them  succeeded  his  father  as  V unwalu  of 
Noemalu,  according  to  the  old  title.  Under  the  new  government 
he  was  styled  the  Mbuli  or  head  man  of  Noemalu.  His  two  brothers, 
both  very  capable  men,  also  held  appointments  in  the  service.  I 
found  them  in  office  when  I  took  up  my  residence  in  Tholo  East  in 
1884. 

The  foregoing  is  a  fragment  of  the  doings  in  the  hills  between  the 
death  of  Mr.  Baker  in  1867  and  the  year  just  mentioned. 


CHAPTER  VI 


Ancient  Traditions 

THE  last  chapter  was  an  endeavour  to  portray  something 
of  the  comparatively  modern  history  of  the  inland 
tribes.  To  understand  them  still  more  a  short  summary 
of  their  ancient  legends  and  traditions  should  be  given, 
as  their  effect  upon  the  daily  life  of  the  people  crops  up  at  every 
turn.  A  brief  epitome  now  will  save  explanations  of  them  as  they 
occur  in  this  narrative. 

The  Viti  Levu  highlanders  still  maintained  the  simplicity  of  their 
patriarchal  system  in  1884,  when  I  first  made  their  acquaintance, 
despite  the  advent  of  Christianity  and  a  new  form  of  government. 
Their  old  religion  was  that  of  ancestral  worship,  and  the  relations 
of  the  members  of  a  clan  to  each  other  was  that  of  father,  son  and 
brother.  The  first  known  progenitor  was  styled  the  Kalou  vu  or 
originating  spirit,  and  was  worshipped  as  the  tutelary  genius  of  his 
people.  At  his  death  he  passed  into  the  realms  of  the  gods  and 
watched  over  and  protected  his  descendants,  whilst  his  spirit  entered 
his  successor  who  became  his  shrine  in  this  world,  his  reincarnation. 
The  appearance  in  public  of  the  chief  of  a  clan  was  greeted  by  a 
shout  of  divine  acclamation  called  the  tama.  The  simple  meaning 
of  that  word  is  “  father,”  and  therein  lies  the  kernel  of  the  whole 
system,  that  of  family  relationship.  In  the  first  years  of  my  sojourn 
with  these  people,  although  nominally  Christians,  the  old  religion 
was  very  near  the  surface.  In  times  of  sickness,  drought  or  the 
contrary,  sacrifices  and  offerings  were  made  surreptitiously  to  the 
family  heads  as  propitiations  to  the  ancestral  spirits.  Men  who  were 
unfortunate  enough  to  be  childless  were  most  unhappy.  They 
feared  to  die  and  face  the  forebears  of  their  race,  who  would  be 
enraged  with  the  wretch  who  had  failed  to  supply  posterity  for  the 
continuance  of  the  family  worship.  Barrenness  of  wives  was  a 
frequent  source  of  application  to  the  courts  for  divorce,  and  British 
law  was  considered  harsh  and  inapplicable  in  that  it  took  no  cogni¬ 
zance  of  such  a  grievance. 


69 


70  Ancient  Traditions 

One  of  my  early  experiences  was  an  example  of  this  general  family 
relationship.  The  Native  Stipendiary  Magistrate  for  the  Lomai 
Tholo  district,  to  the  clans  of  which  he  was  more  or  less  related,  and 
I  met  at  Undu,  a  Muaira  village  on  the  junction  of  the  Wailoa  and 
Wainimala  Rivers.  Before  we  could  sit  together  in  the  Provincial 
Court  he  had  to  clear  up  all  minor  offences  in  his  District  Court,  in 
which  he  had  jurisdiction  up  to  fines  of  thirty  shillings,  or  terms  of 
imprisonment  not  exceeding  three  months.  It  was  not  etiquette 
for  me  to  be  seen  whilst  he  was  adjudicating,  but  there  was  only  one 
big  house  in  the  place.  It  was,  however,  screened  off  at  the  upper 
end  by  a  large  bark-cloth  curtain  iji  order  to  form  a  space  for  a  sleeping 
apartment,  and  into  this  I  retired  whilst  my  colleague  carried  on. 
He  sat  in  the  centre  of  the  house  just  below  the  curtain,  whilst  the 
tribal  elders  and  native  officials  ranged  themselves  in  a  semicircle 
round  him  on  the  matted  floor.  Opposite  him  at  the  door  at  the 
lower  end  was  a  constable,  the  only  one  allowed  to  stand  in  that 
assembly,  who  did  so  in  virtue  of  being  the  representative  of  the 
mighty  Matanitu ,  i.e.  the  government. 

At  the  magistrate’s  side  was  the  native  clerk  of  the  court.  He 
read  a  name  from  a  list  which  was  repeated  by  the  policeman  at  the 
door,  and  which  was  again  reiterated  by  some  village  constables 
outside.  In  response  a  man  dived  through  the  low  door  and  crawled 
up  the  mats  until  he  reached  the  Presence.  Then  the  clerk  read  out 
the  charge,  and  the  culprit  was  thus  addressed  by  the  occupant  of 
the  bench  :  “  Oh  !  younger  brother,  what  is  this  I  hear,  that  you 
have  transgressed  and  broken  the  law  of  the  land  ?  ”  The  accused 
respectfully  clapped  his  hands,  the  native  way  of  showing  reverence, 
and  replied  :  “  Noble  Elder  Brother,  that  which  is  preferred  against 
me  is  true.  In  my  folly  and  perverseness  I  did  that  which  I  ought 
not  to  have  done,  and  committed  sin.”  Then  his  elder  rejoined  : 
“  Oh  !  little  brother,  for  this  you  must  go  to  gaol  and  labour  for 
three  months  !  !  !  ”  Once  more  the  accused  respectfully  acclaimed 
the  authority  of  the  court  by  clapping  his  hands,  and  was  taken  off 
in  custody  by  the  representative  of  the  great  Matanitu  standing  at 
the  door. 

Matanitu  is  the  key-word  to  the  whole  system  of  ancestral  religion. 
Mata  means  in  front  or  in  face  of,  whilst  nitu  is  the  pure  Fijian  for 
god.  A  group  of  clans  descended  from  the  same  kalou  vu  or  origin¬ 
ating  spirit,  worship  a  common  god  and  bow  down  before  his  face, 
and  hence  are  welded  together  in  a  form  of  government.  Tribes, 
with  many  off-shoots  in  the  shape  of  subsidiary  clans,  but  all 
descended  from  the  one  ancestor  are  matanitu.  When  King 


Ancient  Traditions 


7 1 

Thakombau  was  asked  by  his  European  ministers,  after  they  had 
succeeded  in  forming  a  system  of  government  for  him,  what  it 
should  be  called,  at  once  said  Matanitu.  Figuratively  speaking  the 
Europeans  and  the  different  tribes,  by  uniting  together  in  the 
furtherance  of  a  common  object,  became  votaries  of  the  same  spirit. 
His  Majesty,  like  all  true  Fijian  chiefs,  excelled  in  all  he  undertook, 
and  was  a  scholar  and  a  past  master  in  the  niceties  of  his  own  language, 
so  without  hesitation  the  word  suggested  by  him  was  adopted,  and 
in  all  Government  proclamations  and  enactments  in  the  vernacular 
matanitu  is  employed  whenever  reference  is  made  to  the  supreme 
power. 

Under  the  old  patriarchal  system,  as  it  existed  among  the  hill 
tribes,  all  men  were  free  and  equal,  and  tyranny  and  oppression  not 
to  be  borne  with.  But  there  was  an  iron  discipline  where  the 
welfare  of  the  clan  was  concerned ;  members  were  expected  to  die 
for  it  and  sacrifice  themselves,  when  necessary,  for  the  divine  head, 
the  chieftain. 

A  settler  once  accused  a  hill  chief  of  having  tried  to  poison  him. 
He  scorned  the  charge.  “  Why,”  said  he,  “  should  I  risk  the  danger 
of  such  an  act  ?  I  had  only  to  tell  one  of  my  young  men  that  I 
desired  this  person’s  death  and  he  would  have  murdered  him  and 
taken  the  consequences,  without  implicating  me  at  all  !  ”  The 
old-time  gentleman  who  has  been  mentioned  in  the  first  chapter  as 
having  asked  that  he  might  be  paid  his  salary  in  whales’-teeth  instead 
of  in  coin  of  the  realm,  had  a  daughter  who  was  committed  for  trial 
to  the  Supreme  Court  on  a  charge  of  having  murdered  her  husband. 
Her  father,  unacquainted  with  the  intricacies  and  chances  of  British 
law,  made  up  his  mind  that  she  was  bound  to  be  convicted.  He 
called  a  family  council,  and  it  was  decided  to  send  to  Suva  at  once 
one  of  the  meaner  members  of  the  clan  to  suffer  the  last  penalty  in 
her  stead,  and  to  save  the  chief  family  from  such  an  indignity.  It 
was  simply  a  matter  of  arrangement,  and  the  man  selected  was  quite 
content  to  suffer  vicariously  for  the  honour  of  the  clan.  The  lady 
was  young  and  pretty,  an  island  girl  with  a  strong  dash  of  Polynesian 
blood  which  makes  for  fairness  of  skin  and  wavy  instead  of  woolly 
hair.  Added  to  these  charms  she  was  ably  defended ;  neither  the 
judge  nor  the  European  assessors  were  desirous  to  convict,  and  she 
was  acquitted.  This  latter  instance  did  not  happen  in  the  hill 
country,  but  in  one  of  the  islands.  Although  the  maritime  people 
have  departed  from  the  ancient  simplicity  of  primitive  native  life, 
the  bedrock  principles  are  still  to  be  found  below  the  surface. 

The  hillmen  have  carefully  preserved  their  genealogies,  being  able 


Ancient  Traditions 


72 

to  trace  their  ancestors  back  to  the  ninth  and  tenth  generations. 
They  have  also  a  clear  memory  of  many  of  their  ancient  traditions, 
and  from  these  two  sources  a  very  fair  amount  of  history  is  pro¬ 
curable. 

Although  many  of  the  customs  of  the  different  tribes  vary  some¬ 
what,  nearly  all  can  be  traced  down  to  a  common  origin.  Their 
diversities  and  the  dissimilarities  in  dialects  seem  to  be  of  compara¬ 
tively  recent  growth,  owing  to  the  wars  which  devastated  the  country. 
The  present-day  native  will  tell  you  that  until  the  advent  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  and  a  settled  form  of  government,  no  man  dare  step  outside 
his  own  tribal  boundaries.  According  to  him,  it  was  the  fashion  upon 
meeting  a  stranger  to  say,  “  Hullo  !  here  is  somebody  whose  talk  is 
different  from  ours  ;  let’s  club  and  eat  him.”  But  in  telling  you 
that,  he  is  speaking  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  without  reflection. 
If  one  proceeds  to  cross-examine  him,  it  will  be  discovered  that  there 
was  quite  an  elaborate  polity  for  the  regulation  of  inter-tribal  inter¬ 
course,  a  system  providing  ambassadors,  heralds  and  messengers, 
whose  lives  during  the  conduct  of  negotiations  and  diplomatic  deal¬ 
ings  were  sacred.  A  powerful  tribe  on  the  Wainimala  with  whom  I 
had  a  great  deal  to  do,  only  shortly  before  I  made  its  acquaintance, 
considered  themselves  strong  enough  to  defy  public  opinion  and, 
like  Germany,  able  to  disregard  international  or,  in  this  particular 
case,  inter-tribal  law.  They  treacherously  murdered  heralds  taking 
to  them  the  sacred  tambua ,  the  consecrated  symbols  of  the  ambassa¬ 
dorial  office.  The  people  who  did  this  were  the  kai  Navitilevu  ( kai 
means  of  or  belonging  to).  They  were  so  powerful  that  in  their  chief 
village  were  nine  Mbure  or  tribal  halls,  which  meant  that  the  tribe 
contained  nine  distinct  clans  or  sub-divisions.  Presuming  on  this 
strength,  they  disregarded  the  amenities,  and  slew  those  whose  office 
should  have  rendered  their  lives  sacred.  Consequently  all  the  neigh¬ 
bouring  tribes  formed  a  confederation  against  them,  and  almost 
utterly  smashed  them  up.  One  of  the  first  of  my  tasks  was  to  gather 
this  broken  clan  together  and  settle  them  again  on  their  ancestral 
lands. 

In  bygone  days  there  was  a  very  considerable  intercourse  between 
the  various  communities.  Even  the  remotest  dwellers  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  inaccessible  Viti  Levu  hills  have  songs  which  tell  of  the 
islands  and  chief  places  in  the  group,  and  of  far  away  Tonga.  In 
Nandrong-a,  the  south-west  point  of  Viti  Levu,  where  the  Singatoka 
River  finds  the  sea,  they  have  this  legend,  which  was  related  to  me 
nearly  fifty  years  ago,  when  I  first  went  to  Fiji.  It  says  that  in  olden 
times  Viti  Levu  was  densely  populated,  fighting  was  unknown  and  a 


Ancient  Traditions  73 

profound  peace  prevailed.  Then  strangers  arrived  and  taught  Fijians 
the  art  of  war  unaccompanied  at  first  by  cannibalism.  One  day, 
however,  in  burning  a  village  some  of  the  bodies  of  the  slain  got 
scorched,  and  their  smell  offended  the  nostrils  of  the  principal  chief. 
He  ordered  some  of  his  retainers  to  move  the  source  of  his  annoyance, 
and  in  doing  so  one  of  them  burnt  his  finger,  which  he  naturally 
licked.  The  taste  seemed  good,  and  he  was  led  secretly  to  try  a  bit 
of  the  corpse.  He  liked  it  and  communicated  his  discovery  to  his 
friends,  and  from  it  originated  cannibalism. 

The  legend  is  curious  for  two  reasons  :  first,  for  its  resemblance 
to  Lamb’s  Essay  on  the  Origin  of  Roast  Pork,  and,  secondly,  in 
that  it  retaliates  upon  the  account  given  by  Mariner  of  the  intro¬ 
duction  of  war  and  cannibalism  to  Tonga.  His  book,  Mariner's 
Tonga  Islands,  is  the  classic  of  those  parts,  the  author  being  resident 
there  from  1806  to  1812.  He  says  :  “When  Captain  Cook  visited 
these  islands  (1771-77)  cannibalism  was  scarcely  thought  of  amongst 
them  ;  but  the  Fiji  people  soon  taught  them  this,  as  well  as  the 
art  of  war.” 

The  first  known  ancestor  or  originating  spirit  of  the  Nandrong-a 
tribe  was  a  Tongan,  adopted  by  it  in  about  a.d.  1600.  Captain  Cook’s 
first  visit  to  Tonga  was  in  1771,  one  hundred  and  seventy  years  later. 
The  whole  valley  of  the  Singatoka  River,  part  of  which  flows  through 
the  district  of  Nandrong-a,  is  impregnated  with  Tongan  blood,  and 
the  people  there  talk  a  dialect  of  that  country.  Their  history  for 
some  three  hundred  years  shows  their  connection  with  it,  and  in  all 
probability  it  would  seem  that  the  adventurers  who  taught  the 
Fijians  the  art  of  war  came  from  thence.  In  the  next  chapter,  deal¬ 
ing  with  the  history  and  genealogies  of  the  principal  inland  tribes,  I 
hope  to  make  this  quite  clear.  There  is  very  good  ground  for  asserting 
that  at  least  one  hundred  and  seventy  years  before  Cook  visited  Tonga, 
or  over  two  hundred  before  Mariner  knew  it,  the  people  of  that 
country  were  carrying  fire  and  club  into  the  hitherto  peaceful  land 
of  Fiji. 

Most  of  the  important  clans  of  the  interior  boast  of  a  foreign 
ancestor  as  their  originating  spirit,  and  from  his  advent  comes  the 
first  dawn  of  authentic  history.  Many  of  the  tribes,  however,  are 
pure-blooded  Melanesians  without  any  intermingling  of  foreign 
blood.  Their  tribal  chronicles  do  not  seem  to  be  so  well  kept  as 
those  of  the  people  who  adopted  strangers,  but  their  legends  mention 
the  arrival  of  the  latter,  recording  the  occurrence  as  “  The  coming 
of  the  gods.”  Their  traditions,  gathered  from  an  entirely  different 
source,  form  a  valuable  corroboration  of  the  account  given  by  those 


74  Ancient  Traditions 

who  adopted  the  wandering  demi-gods,  Polynesian  Vikings,  who 
some  three  to  four  centuries  ago  ranged  the  South  Seas  in  their 
picturesque  mat-sailed  double  canoes. 

One  of  the  most  primitive  of  the  Melanesian  tribes  is  that  of 
Mboumbutho,  with  its  affiliated  clan  of  Nasongo.  They  live  just 
below  the  eastern  slopes  of  Mount  Victoria  in  the  valleys  of  the 
Nasongo  and  Wailoa  Rivers.  One  of  the  elders  of  the  Nasongo, 
Nandavelevu  (The  Great  Flood),  gave  me  their  version  of  the  origin 
of  cannibalism.  It  is  over  thirty  years  ago  since  he  told  me  the  tale, 
but  I  wrote  it  down  at  the  time,  and  this  is  what  he  said  : 

“  I  am  entitled  to  speak  of  olden  times.  I  am  an  old  man  and  the 
son  of  a  very  old  man,  who  told  me  much  of  former  times.  When 
we  first  heard  of  the  Lotu  (the  Christian  religion)  my  father  said  to 
me,  ‘  My  son,  this  is  no  new  thing,  we  had  it  in  bygone  ages.  There 
is  a  legend  of  our  tribe  which  says  that  at  one  time  profound  peace 
prevailed  in  the  land  ;  we  were  religious  and  did  not  go  to  war. 
Then  a  great  catastrophe  befell  Viti  :  all  the  crops  perished,  and  the 
people  tried  to  exist  upon  leaves  and  the  bark  of  trees.  During  this 
period  two  miserable,  starving  men  met  in  the  woods.  One  of  them 
said,  “  My  friend,  what  are  you  about  ?  ”  The  other  answered, 
“  Looking  for  food.  I  am  nearly  dead  with  hunger.”  Then  the 
first  replied,  “  So  am  I,  my  friend  ;  there  is  nothing  for  us — kill  and 
eat  me.”  The  other  refused,  but  when  a  favourable  opportunity 
presented  itself  he  clubbed  and  killed  the  first  speaker,  that  being 
his  intention  from  the  beginning.  Then  he  discovered  that  human 
flesh  was  quite  good  eating,  and  went  home  and  told  his  friends,  who, 
pressed  by  hunger,  tried  the  experiment  for  themselves  and,  approv¬ 
ing,  made  it  a  general  habit.  At  first  they  did  it  surreptitiously, 
killing  only  the  women  and  children  of  neighbouring  communities. 
This  led  to  reprisals  and  to  the  necessity  of  living  in  fortified  villages, 
and  thus  began  war  and  cannibalism.’  ” 

Old  Nandavelevu,  who  told  me  this,  was  a  typical  inland  Mela¬ 
nesian  hillman,  sooty  black,  with  woolly  hair  and  of  short  stature. 
He  it  was  who  owned  to  having  strangled  his  own  mother,  when 
Mbuli  Nandrau  was  giving  us  the  little  disquisition  on  the  uses  of 
the  Solanum  Anthropophagorum.  Poor  old  chap  !  he  always  had  some¬ 
thing  mysterious  the  matter  with  him.  One  day,  when  I  was  riding 
along  the  eastern  slopes  of  Mount  Victoria  as  they  sweep  down  to 
the  Nasongo  valley,  I  came  upon  him  and  a  group  of  fellow-villagers 
squatted  upon  the  edge  of  the  track.  I  thought  that  he  looked  rather 
sick,  and,  accosting  him,  said,  “  Nandavelevu,  you  look  a  bit  ill.  What 
is  the  matter  ?  ”  <£  Matter,”  replied  he,  “  why,  what  is  always  the 


Ancient  Traditions  75 

matter  with  us  Fijians  ?  ”  “  Well,”  I  answered,  “  what  is  it  ?  ” 

“  Witchcraft,  of  course.  I  am  under  a  spell.”  “  But  why,  Nanda- 
velevu,  should  anyone  bewitch  you  ?  ”  The  response  to  this  was 
furnished  by  a  sprightly  youth  standing  by  :  “  Don’t  you  know,  sir, 
that  he  and  all  his  people  before  him  were  murderers,  and  the  rela¬ 
tives  of  his  victims  are  trying  to  pay  him  out  by  incantations  against 
him  ?  ” 

The  people  of  Mba,  who  live  on  the  extreme  north-west  coast  of 
Viti  Levu,  say  too  that  formerly  they  were  not  cannibals.  A  frightful 
hurricane  that  ravaged  their  district  created  a  famine  which  made 
them  devour  each  other,  and  eating  human  flesh  became  an  institu¬ 
tion.  So  great  was  the  havoc  in  the  Yasawa  Islands,  just  to  the  north 
and  westward  of  them,  that  their  inhabitants  had  to  come  over  to 
the  mainland  in  search  of  sustenance.  Thus  from  three  independent 
sources  tradition  asserts  that  formerly  cannibalism  did  not  exist,  but 
was  brought  about  by  untoward  circumstances. 

Whilst  the  inland  communities  retained  the  republican  simplicity 
of  their  early  institutions,  the  coast  people  became  absorbed  in  a 
series  of  petty  kingdoms  and  principalities.  When  Fiji  first  began 
to  be  known  in  the  commencement  of  the  nineteenth  century,  there 
were  as  many  kings  and  kinglets  as  one  reads  of  in  the  Book  of  Joshua, 
and,  if  possible,  they  were  more  bloodthirsty  and  crueller  than  their 
prototypes  of  sacred  writ.  They  established  domestic  slavery,  and 
when  the  fortune  of  war  provided  nothing  for  their  larders  they  fell 
back  upon  their  domestic  preserves,  and  ate  their  own  wretched  serfs. 
My  account  of  turtle  fishing  given  in  the  Field  shows  how  a  chief 
could  dispose  of  his  bondsmen,  the  offspring  of  those  conquered  in 
war.  It  says  :  “  The  ordinary  levy  of  the  Ratu  was  ten  turtles  for 
each  canoe.  When  nine  apiece  had  been  procured,  the  Funindau ,  or 
Chief  Fisherman,  appointed  a  day  on  which  the  fishery  was  to  close, 
and  any  canoe  short  of  its  tale  had  to  have  one  of  the  crew  killed  to 
make  it  up.” 

These  petty  despots  practised  the  most  appalling  cruelty.  When 
they  erected  their  large  tribal  halls  or  temples  they  considered  it 
necessary  to  place  a  human  being  in  each  of  the  holes  dug  for  the 
heavy  posts  which  were  to  sustain  the  framework  of  the  building. 
As  generally  they  were  large  structures  entailing  the  use  of  thirty  or 
forty  posts,  the  toll  of  human  lives  on  such  an  occasion  was  con¬ 
siderable.  The  first  launch  of  a  big  double  war  canoe,  many  of  which 
carried  three  hundred  warriors,  was  the  cause  of  much  bloodshed. 
The  rollers  on  the  slipway  were  human  beings  lashed  to  banana  trunks 
to  prevent  struggling.  In  a  book  written  in  the  old  cannibal  days, 


Ancient  Traditions 


76 

The  Cruise  of  the  Havannah ,  by  Captain  Erskine,  R.N.,  is  an  account 
of  such  a  gruesome  launch  furnished  by  a  European  eye-witness. 

Such  practices  were  quite  unknown  in  the  hill  country.  I  heard 
of  only  one  solitary  instance  of  men  being  placed  underneath  house 
posts,  and  that  was  merely  on  a  small  scale,  and  the  individual  prowess 
of  one  warrior.  From  it  he  received  the  name  of  Nandurutamata, 
which  means  “  the  man  post.”  He  determined  to  build  a  small 
sleeping  house  for  himself  which  would  only  entail  the  use  of  four 
posts.  Whenever  he  got  an  opportunity  he  stalked  a  foe,  clubbed 
him  and  brought  him  home  until  he  had  collected  his  tale.  It  was 
the  work  of  many  months,  and  was  considered  quite  an  extraordinary 
feat.  A  coast  king  would  have  sent  his  army  out  and  bagged  the  lot 
at  one  go,  but  in  the  hills  Nandurutamata  had  to  do  it  off  his  own 
bat.  When  I  went  up  to  Tholo,  the  Resident  Commissioner,  Mr. 
Carew,  warned  me  against  the  old  man  as  an  old  die-hard  and  re¬ 
actionary,  but,  as  the  Fijians  used  to  say,  he  had  become  quite 
“  tame,”  and  as  his  nephew  was  the  sergeant  of  my  small  police  force, 
he  quite  looked  upon  himself  as  one  of  my  retainers,  and  from  him 
I  obtained  many  ancient  legends  and  old-time  lore. 


CHAPTER  VII 


Polynesian  Adventurers 

“  East  is  East  and  West  is  West, 

And  never  the  twain  shall  meet.” — Kipling. 

WITH  the  greatest  respect  to  the  poet,  it  seems  as  if  East 
and  West  do  meet  in  the  Fiji  Islands  in  more  ways 
than  one.  According  to  the  Charter  constituting  them 
the  Colony  of  Fiji,  they  lie  between  the  fifteenth  and 
twenty-second  degrees  of  south  latitude,  and  between  the  one 
hundred  and  seventy-seventh  degree  of  west  longitude,  and  the  one 
hundred  and  seventy-fifth  degree  of  east  longitude  from  the  meridian 
of  Greenwich.  Consequently  the  one  hundred  and  eightieth  degree 
passes  through  the  group  dividing  it  in  two,  in  one  of  which  eastern 
time  would  prevail  and  western  in  the  other,  were  it  not  for  the  local 
enactment  known  as  “  The  Uniform  Date  Ordinance.”  Except  for 
that  the  eastern  side  would  be  a  day  ahead  of  the  western,  and  so 
the  time  of  the  former  is  made  the  standard  of  the  whole  group. 

Fiji  is  therefore  nearly  the  antipodes  of  England,  it  being  impos¬ 
sible  to  get  away  further  either  East  or  West.  The  clocks  are  twelve 
hours  ahead  of  Greenwich  time,  and  our  flag  out  there,  upon  which, 
according  to  our  proud  boast,  the  sun  never  sets,  is  the  first  in  the 
British  Dominions  to  welcome  its  rays. 

Not  only  do  the  extremes  of  longitude  meet  there,  but  the  Poly¬ 
nesians  and  the  Melanesians,  the  two  great  characteristic  races  of  the 
Southern  Pacific,  have  there  come  into  contact  and  intermingled. 
Tonga  and  Fiji  are  their  outposts,  the  people  in  the  former  being 
the  most  western  of  the  light-coloured  Polynesians,  whilst  in  the 
latter  are  to  be  found  the  most  eastern  of  the  woolly-headed  Mela¬ 
nesians.  Both  sides  show  the  effect  of  proximity  and  the  continual 
intercourse  of  some  centuries.  The  hair  of  the  Tongans  is  not  so 
straight  and  fine  as  that  of  the  Tahitians  and  Samoans,  whilst  that 
of  the  Fijians  of  the  eastern  and  southern  islands  of  the  group  is  less 
woolly  and  coarse,  nor  are  they  so  dark  in  colour  as  the  almost  purely 

77 


78  Polynesian  Adventurers 

Melanesian  tribes  of  Viti  Levu.  The  contrast  is  very  marked,  to  the 
advantage  of  the  island  people,  whose  breed  has  been  much  improved 
by  their  contact  with  the  beautiful  Polynesians. 

This  fusion  of  the  race6  is  due  to  the  south-east  trade  wind  which 
from  April  to  November  blows  steady,  constant  and  true.  An  exami¬ 
nation  of  the  chart  of  the  Southern  Pacific  will  show  how  favourable 
this  is  for  craft  from  Tahiti,  Samoa  and  Tonga,  and  other  islands  to 
the  eastward.  For  hundreds  of  years  it  has  brought  adventurers 
from  those  places,  though  mostly  from  Tonga,  and  they  have  put 
their  mark  undoubtedly  on  the  outlying  portions  of  the  Fijian  group. 
Captain  Cook,  whilst  at  Tonga  in  1 777,  noted  that  the  young  bloods 
there  went  to  Fiji  to  acquire  military  fame  and  do  a  campaign  or 
two,  as  our  young  noblemen  used  to  do  on  the  Continent  in  the 
times  of  Marlborough  and  the  Georges.  How  few  know  that  charm¬ 
ing  book  Mariner’’ s  Tonga,  which  treats  of  the  author’s  captivity 
there  in  the  early  days  of  the  last  century  !  He  recounts  many  of 
the  adventures  of  his  Tongan  friends,  especially  of  the  chief  he  calls 
Cow  Moala,  who,  passing  the  eastward  islands  of  Fiji,  generally  their 
farthest  goal,  pushed  on  to  Viti  Levu. 

Nearly  two  hundred  years  before  Captain  Cook  observed  Fijians 
in  Tonga,  Polynesian  adventurers  had  made  their  way  to  Viti  Levu. 
From  their  comeliness  and  beauty  they  were  regarded  as  gods  and 
heroes  by  the  simple  black  people  of  that  country,  who  received  them 
hospitably,  gave  them  wives  and  made  them  their  chiefs.  As  I  have 
already  told  you,  with  their  arrival  the  period  of  authentic  history 
commences,  and  their  doings  and  those  of  their  descendants  can  be 
duly  given  by  the  native  chroniclers.  It  would  seem  that  these  new 
arrivals  came  principally  from  Tonga,  but  there  is  reason  also  to 
believe  that  some  may  have  come  from  Samoa. 

I  mentioned  in  the  last  chapter  that  the  kalou  vu  or  originating 
spirit  of  the  Nandrong-a  tribe  was  a  Tongan.  Nandrong-a  is  in  the 
extreme  south-west  corner  of  Viti  Levu.  The  inhabitants  were  down 
on  the  coast  fishing  one  day,  and  for  that  purpose  visited  the  little 
islet  of  Kamba.  Strange  sounds  proceeding  from  the  top  of  a  lofty 
coco-nut  palm  astonished  them,  and,  looking  up,  they  saw  what  they 
called  a  red-skinned  youth,  very  beautiful  to  behold,  trying  to  hide 
himself  in  the  fronds  which  crowned  the  tree,  and  evidently  chatter¬ 
ing  with  fear.  They  made  signs  for  him  to  come  down,  and  when  he 
did  so  they  fed  him,  took  him  home  and  gave  him  one  of  their  girls 
for  his  wife.  He  was  said  to  have  talked  gutturally  or  hoarsely,  as 
the  Fijians  say  the  Tongans  do.  The  Fijian  for  hoarseness  is  ndrong- 
androng-a.  They  endeavoured  to  imitate  him  and  learnt  to  speak 


Polynesian  Adventurers  79 

as  he  did,  and  called  themselves  the  kai  Nandrong-a  or  people  of 
Nandrong-a.  The  peculiarity  of  their  dialect  and  the  Tongan  lan¬ 
guage  is  that  wherever  the  letter  “  s  ”  occurs  in  Fiji  and  other 
South  Sea  Islands  the  letter  “  h  ”  is  used  instead,  and  “  s  ”  for  “  t,” 
and  “  k  ”  for  the  hard  “  ng.”  In  reading  Captain  Cook’s  book,  when 
he  recounts  his  stay  in  Tonga,  it  will  be  observed  that  his  hosts  talked 
to  him  of  Hamoa,  which,  however,  the  inhabitants  of  that  country 
and  the  ordinary  Fijians  call  Samoa.  Mariner  in  his  narrative  does 
the  same.  The  peculiarity  of  the  Nandrongan  dialect  is  most  marked. 
Whilst  I  was  at  Nandarivatu  the  constabulary  there  was  reinforced 
by  a  small  draft  of  men  from  that  district.  The  first  time  they 
attended  our  usual  Sunday  morning  service  when  we  came  to  the 
Lord’s  Prayer  I  noticed  that  all  the  men  except  them  kept  quiet  with 
a  broad  grin  on  their  faces.  The  orthodox  rendering  of  saying  “  Give 
us  this  day  ”  in  ordinary  Fijian  is  “  Sofia  e  na  sing-a  ongo.”  The 
Nandrongan  rendering  is  “  Holia  e  na  Hing-a  oke.”  After  church 
I  asked  the  native  officer  why  the  men  had  not  repeated  the  prayer 
as  usual.  “  Oh  !  they  just  wanted  to  listen  to  those  Nandrong-a 
boys.”  I  suppose  one  might  liken  it  to  men  up  from  Zummerzet 
affording  amusement  by  praying  in  the  dialect  they  are  popularly 
supposed  to  use. 

By  the  year  1895  I  had  collected  the  genealogies  of  most  of  the 
leading  hill  tribes  of  Viti  Levu.  In  almost  every  one  of  them  the 
then  occupant  of  the  chieftaincy  was  the  ninth  in  descent  from  the 
first  known  ancestor,  who  in  every  case  was  a  light-coloured  stranger. 
The  different  tribes  knew  the  names  of  these  men,  where  they  landed 
and  the  route  they  followed  in  making  their  way  inland.  The 
accompanying  map  shows  the  various  spots  on  the  coast  where  they 
disembarked  and  how  they  arrived  at  their  final  destinations.  The 
greater  number  of  the  heroes  who  became  the  kalou  vu  or  originating 
spirits  of  the  Singatoka  River  clans,  landed  at  Tuva  in  the  Nandrong-a 
province.  A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  this  place  at  the  extreme 
south-west  point  of  Viti  Levu.  From  Tonga  thence,  the  south-east 
trade  is  a  dead  fair  wind,  and  there  is  a  fine  commodious  harbour  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Tuva  River,  sheltered  by  the  islands  of  Likuri  and 
Matamatathawa.  It  is  such  a  commodious  port  that,  whilst  I  was 
in  the  islands,  the  large  fruit  steamers  from  Australia  and  New 
Zealand  used  to  go  there  to  load  bananas  grown  in  the  spacious  valley 
of  the  Singatoka  River.  The  mouth  of  the  Tuva  affords  the  most 
commodious  anchorage  in  the  south-west  of  the  island. 

The  new  arrivals  made  their  way  thence  to  Mavua  on  the  Singa¬ 
toka  River,  and  then  spread  themselves  out  in  various  directions. 


8o 


Polynesian  Adventurers 

From  that  time  forward  there  is  a  plain  and  succinct  account  of  what 
they  did.  The  only  strange  thing  about  them  is  that  in  one  instance 
only  is  any  name  of  the  place  from  whence  they  came  given.  Those 
who  settled  at  Mavua  called  that  place  so,  saying  that  that  was  the 
ancestral  designation  of  the  tribe  to  which  they  belonged.  The  old 
Fijian  name  for  this  spot  is  Nakumbululevu,  and  the  descendants  of 
the  original  owners  still  dwell  there,  and  their  title  to  the  land  is 
officially  recognised.  One  of  these  adventurers,  the  demi-god  who 
founded  the  Mataku  tribe,  erected  a  row  of  thirteen  stones,  each  of 
which  he  called  after  a  moon,  thus  providing  a  record  for  a  lunar 
year.  The  place  where  he  lined  them  out  he  called  the  Tuithake  or 
the  “  uprising,”  otherwise  the  East.  Another  placed  a  large  stone 
in  the  centre  of  his  village  at  which  malefactors  could  take  refuge. 
Once  a  man  who  had  committed  a  crime  got  on  top  of  it  he  was 
safe.  His  pursuers  would  then  say  to  him,  “  Your  life  is  now  spared, 
not  because  you  are  innocent,  but  because  you  are  on  the  Rock  of 
Refuge.” 

In  making  my  calculations  I  have  allowed  thirty  years  for  a  genera¬ 
tion.  I  do  not  think  that  this  is  too  long  a  period.  Without  excep¬ 
tion  the  occupants  of  the  chieftaincies  lived  to  a  ripe  old  age.  Very 
few  were  killed  in  battle,  and  those  that  were,  left  grown-up  sons  to 
carry  on  the  line.  The  holders  of  the  chiefly  office  being  the  ninth 
in  descent  from  the  first  known  ancestors,  allowing  thirty  years  for  a 
generation,  would  give  270  years  of  history.  As  I  made  my  investiga¬ 
tions  in  1895,  that  would  take  us  back  to  a.d.  1625.  A  few  of  the 
tribes  could  account  for  ten  generations,  which  would  give  another 
thirty  years,  and  make  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  dawn  of 
history  in  Viti  Levu.  The  genealogies  of  the  principal  clans  all 
point  to  the  conclusions  I  have  come  to  above. 

About  the  period  mentioned,  a  very  large  influx  of  strangers  took 
place  headed  by  a  chief,  the  great  Ndeng-ei.  His  origin  and  arrival 
in  Fiji  got  lost  in  the  mists  of  antiquity  ;  ancestral  worship  deified 
him,  and  totemism  turned  him  into  a  serpent.  The  early  Wesleyan 
missionaries  speak  of  him  only  as  a  god.  The  Reverend  Joseph 
Waterhouse,  who  went  to  Fiji  in  1848,  and  who  has  written  an  ex¬ 
tremely  interesting  account  of  his  sojourn  in  his  book  The  King  and 
People  of  Fiji ,  speaks  thus  of  Ndeng-ei  : 

“  He  is  the  supreme  god  of  Fiji.  He  is  the  creator  of  the  (Fijian) 
world,  of  fruits  and  of  men.  He  it  was  who  deluged  the  world 
in  punishing  the  sin  of  his  rebellious  creatures.  He  sends  forth 
his  sons  to  visit  the  earth,  who  make  their  reports  to  him  con¬ 
cerning  the  piety  of  its  inhabitants.  His  sons  have  performed 


Bamboo  Rafts  and  Takia. 


Polynesian  Adventurers  81 

miracles  on  the  occasion  of  these  visits.  He  is  also  a  god  of  anger 
and  of  war. 

“  He  is  enshrined  in  a  serpent  ;  and  some  say  that  the  hinder  part 
of  his  body  is  a  stone,  significant  of  eternal  duration.  He  resides  in 
a  cave,  on  a  mountain  in  the  Rakiraki  district,  towards  the  north-east 
of  Na  Viti  Levu.  When  he  turns  over  he  causes  earthquake.  When 
he  moves  there  is  thunder.  He  is  universally  known  and  acknowledged 
in  Fiji  ;  but  is  not  worshipped,  except  near  his  own  cave.” 

The  Reverend  Thomas  Williams,  a  great  authority  in  the  early 
history  of  the  Wesleyan  Mission,  in  his  Fiji  and  the  Fijians  speaks 
of  Ndeng-ei  in  almost  similar  terms. 

Early  in  1886  I  had  occasion  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  his  shrine. 
A  Fijian  prophet,  a  sort  of  Mahdi,  had  arisen  then,  and  was  spreading 
sedition  in  which  the  worship  of  Ndeng-ei  figured  considerably.  In 
a  subsequent  chapter  I  shall  try  and  show  him  in  his  religious  capacity. 
In  the  meantime  I  want  to  set  forth  his  earthly  side. 

He  arrived  at  Vunda,  on  the  western  coast  of  Viti  Levu,  accom¬ 
panied  apparently  by  a  fleet  of  canoes  and  a  large  following  who 
spread  out  from  thence  to  different  parts  of  the  island.  The  place 
where  he  landed  is  called  Vunda,  because  it  means  “  our  origin.” 
Although  the  country  was  then  densely  occupied  by  Melanesians, 
very  little  is  known  of  them  until  the  arrival  of  the  god-like  heroes 
who  accompanied  Ndeng-ei,  and  were  adopted  as  chiefs  by  the 
aboriginal  people.  He  himself  went  up  to  Nathilau,  almost  the 
extreme  northern  point  of  Viti  Levu,  just  below  the  district  of 
Rakiraki.  It  is  grass  country,  and  good  timber  has  to  be  hauled  from 
the  mountain  ranges,  but  everywhere  are  groves  of  the  Pandanus 
odoratissimus ,  the  Fijian  name  for  which  is  vandra.  Its  stems  are 
poor  and  pithy  and  not  fit  for  permanent  use,  but  they  do  all  right 
for  temporary  buildings.  Ndeng-ei  put  up  some,  using  the  vandra 
as  posts  for  his  house,  and  his  settlement  was  therefore  called  Nakau- 
vandra.  Kau  is  the  Fijian  generic  term  for  timber  of  any  sort,  and 
the  whole  name  simply  means  “  the  vandra  posts.”  Old  names  are 
always  objects  of  sentimental  affection  even  to  us,  and  we  have 
carried  them  with  us  wherever  we  have  settled,  witness  New  England, 
New  York,  New  Plymouth  and  the  hundreds  of  others  with  which 
we  have  besprinkled  the  world.  Fijians,  with  their  system  of  ancestral 
worship,  venerate  still  more  their  old  original  designations,  and  their 
migrations  can  be  traced  by  them.  When  they  left  a  village  site  and 
took  up  their  quarters  elsewhere,  they  took  the  old  name  with  them. 
The  original  population  seems  to  have  commenced  on  the  northern 
and  western  shores  of  Viti  Levu,  and  spread  from  thence  to  the 
r 


82 


Polynesian  Adventurers 

southern  coast.  As  the  people  pushed  their  way  from  one  settlement 
to  another  they  took  their  ancestral  names  with  them.  In  road¬ 
making  I  have  come  across  many  places  called  Suva,  Lami,  Rewa,  etc  , 
now  the  names  of  towns,  villages,  etc.,  on  the  southern  coast  of  Viti 
Levu  where  the  sea  has  checked  any  further  migrations. 

Nakauvandra  is  now  the  name  of  a  rocky  mountain  spur,  one  of 
the  ramifications  of  Mount  Victoria  that  terminates  in  the  sea  at 
Nathilau  Point.  The  summit  is  2683  feet  above  sea-level,  and 
is  the  shrine  of  Ndeng-ei.  From  its  being  there  Nakauvandra  has 
become  the  Holy  Land  of  Fiji. 

I  have  mentioned  that  on  the  coast  small  kingdoms  were  estab¬ 
lished.  Of  these  Verata,  Mbureta,  Mbua  and  some  others  acknow¬ 
ledge  that  their  founders  were  heroes  who  came  to  Fiji  with  Ndeng-ei. 
One  of  his  sons,  whose  name  was  Wangatanga,  landed  at  Tuva  in 
Nandrong-a,  passed  through  Mavua  and  established  himself  at 
Mbeimana  on  the  Singatoka  River,  and  became  the  originator  of 
the  Ndavutukia  tribe.  His  son,  Ndeng-ei’s  grandson,  was  called  Tui 
Tonga  Levu,  which  means  the  King  of  Great  Tonga,  which  would 
seem  to  point  to  that  country  as  the  place  from  which  these  adven¬ 
turers  had  come.  Perhaps,  though,  they  may  have  come  from  Samoa. 
The  custom  of  tattooing  seems  to  throw  some  light  on  the  subject. 

The  best  notice  I  have  seen  about  it  is  in  Viti ,  an  Account  of  a 
Government  Mission  to  the  Vitian  or  Fijian  Islands ,  by  Dr.  Seeman. 
He  went  there  in  i860,  writes  clearly  and  distinctly,  and  seemingly 
with  great  authority.  He  says  : 

“  In  Polynesia  tattooing  seems  to  have  attained  its  culminating 
point  in  the  Society  Islands  and  the  Marquesas,  where  both  men  and 
women  have  submitted  to  it  ;  proceeding  thence  eastward  to  Samoa 
and  Tonga,  we  find  it  restricted  to  the  men  ;  in  Fiji  to  the  women, 
and  altogether  ceasing  in  the  New  Hebrides.  Yet,  strange  to  add, 
Polynesian  tradition  asserts  that  the  custom  was  known  in  Fiji  before 
its  being  adopted  in  Samoa  and  Tonga.  Two  goddesses,  Taema  and 
Tilaifainga,  swam  from  Fiji  to  Samoa,  and  on  reaching  the  latter 
group  commenced  singing,  ‘  Tattoo  the  men,  but  not  the  women  ’ 
(Turner’s  Nineteen  Tears  in  Polynesia,  p.  182).  Hence  the  two  were 
worshipped  as  the  presiding  deities  by  those  who  followed  tattooing 
as  a  trade  ;  for  a  trade  it  was  and  is,  quite  as  much  as  tailoring  is  in 
our  own  country,  and  requiring  by  far  greater  care  and  caution. 
The  blue  tracery  once  made  cannot,  like  a  pair  of  trousers,  be  thrown 
aside  when  spoilt  in  the  cut,  but  has  to  be  worn  for  life,  exposed  to 
all  the  remarks  which  good  and  ill-natured  friends  may  be  disposed 
to  make.” 


Polynesian  Adventurers  83 

A  tradition  current  in  Tonga  and  Fiji  corroborates  the  fact  of 
tattooing  having  been  derived  from  the  latter  group.  It  is  stated, 
that  at  a  remote  period  the  King  of  Tonga  sent  a  mission  to  Fiji,  in 
order  to  ascertain  whether,  as  had  been  reported,  the  women  of  those 
isles  had  been  tattooed.  On  reaching  the  island  of  Ogea,  in  the 
eastern  part  of  Fiji,  the  mission,  with  some  difficulty,  made  the 
natives  comprehend  that  they  wished  to  find  out  what  sex  was 
tattooed  ( qia )  ;  to  which  the  Fijians  replied,  “  Qia  na  alewa  ” 
(women  are  tattooed).  In  obedience  to  orders,  the  first  person  met 
had  been  asked,  and  as  a  plain  answer  to  a  plain  question  had  been 
obtained  the  mission  departed  homewards.  There  was  no  other 
means  of  remembering  the  answer  than  by  repeating  it  continually. 
This  was  done  without  interruption  until  their  canoe  reached  the 
Ogea  passage,  where,  the  sea  becoming  rough,  apprehensions  about 
the  safety  of  the  canoe  began  to  be  entertained,  and  in  the  ensuing 
excitement  the  repetition  of  the  precious  words  was  neglected. 
Suddenly  the  neglect  was  perceived,  and  it  was  asked  all  round  what 
the  words  were.  Somebody  replied,  “  Qia  na  tagane  ”  (men  are 
tattooed),  instead  of  “  Qia  na  alewa  ”  (women  are  tattooed)  ;  which 
mistake,  passing  unnoticed,  was  repeated  until  the  crew  reached 
Tonga  ;  and  on  being  reported  to  the  king,  he  exclaimed,  “  Oh,  it 
is  men  not  women,  that  are  tattooed  !  Well,  then,  I  will  be  tattooed 
at  once.”  The  example  set  was  speedily  followed  ;  hence  the  custom, 
that  in  Fiji  the  women,  in  Tonga  the  men,  are  tattooed ;  hence  also 
the  name  of  the  Ogea  passage,  Qia  na  tagane. 

According  to  Fijian  tradition  the  first  woman  to  be  tattooed  was 
Andi  (Lady)  Vilaiwasa,  the  daughter  of  the  great  Ndeng-ei.  In  all 
probability  her  case  is  simply  the  first  to  be  recorded,  as,  before  the 
advent  of  her  father  and  those  who  came  about  the  same  time,  there 
is  no  history.  The  old  original  tribes  know  nothing  of  events  prior 
to  the  arrival  of  these  strangers,  but  they  have  shadowy  legends  wffiich 
refer  to  them  as  “  the  coming  of  the  gods,”  and  to  the  rivalry  which 
then  commenced  between  them  and  their  ancient  deities.  It  would 
seem  that  the  tattooing  was  customary  in  Viti  long  before  the 
Polynesian  incursion.  It  is  an  art  not  learnt  in  a  day.  I  have  a  paper 
on  it,  a  translation  of  which  is  given  further  on,  written  by  Malakai 
Navatu,  at  one  time  the  Mbuli  or  head  man  of  the  Mboumbutho,  in 
all  likelihood  the  most  purely  Melanesian  clan  in  the  whole  of  Fiji. 

I  have  visited  the  place  where  Andi  Vilaiwasa  was  tattooed. 
There  is  a  large  boulder  there  partially  hollow  like  a  small  cave, 
affording  a  shelter  from  the  weather.  When  I  saw  it  in  1886  the 
roof  was  blackened  by  smoke,  and  evidently  in  frequent  use.  My 


Polynesian  Adventurers 


guide  said,  “  Here  was  tattooed  the  daughter  of  the  great  Ndeng-ei, 
and  here  too  the  women  of  our  race  still  come  for  the  same  purpose.” 
This  little  retreat  of  the  Lady  Vilaiwasa  is  in  the  valley  of  the  upper 
Wainimbuka,  close  to  its  source.  Towering  high  above  is  the  summit 
of  the  Kauvandra  mountain,  the  shrine  of  her  sire.  All  around  are 
many  spots  sacred  in  myths  and  songs  forming  veritably  the  Holy 
Land  of  Fiji. 

The  legend  that  the  two  goddesses  Taema  and  Tilaifainga  swam 
to  Samoa  with  the  report  that  tattooing  was  practised  in  Fiji,  might 
point  to  the  coming  of  Ndeng-ei  from  that  country.  One  of  the 
tribes  whose  genealogy  I  have  are  called  the  Savaii.  That  is  the  name 
of  one  of  the  Samoan  islands.  Had  this  clan  come  from  Tonga 
they  would  have  called  themselves  the  Haapai,  from  the  custom  of  the 
people  of  that  country  substituting  the  letter  “  h  ”  for  “  s,”  and  there 
is  an  island  there  called  Haapai.  There  is  a  theory  that  the  Poly¬ 
nesians  originally  made  their  way  from  India,  staying  at  Java  en  route, 
and  various  changes  in  the  spelling  and  pronunciation  of  that  word 
is  one  of  the  arguments  in  favour  of  it.  Those  who  hold  this  say  that 
we  find  it  as  Hawaii  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  as  Savaii  in  Samoa, 
and  Haapai  in  Tonga.  As  we  only  find  the  Tongan  “  h  ”  in  vogue  in 
Nandrong-a,  whose  people  we  know  adopted  a  man  of  that  country 
as  their  head  chief,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  people  generally  use  the 
letter  “s,”  it  may  be  that  many  of  these  Polynesian  adventurers 
hailed  from  Samoa. 

Dravisia  is  the  first  recorded  chief  of  the  Savaii.  He  was  one  of 
those  who  landed  at  Tuva,  passed  through  Mavua,  and  settled  further 
up  the  Singatoka  River.  He  was  one  of  the  first  to  arrive,  and  when 
I  was  making  inquiries  in  1895  his  tenth  descendant  held  the  chief¬ 
taincy.  That  would  point  to  the  arrival  of  the  original  ancestor  in 
about  a.d.  1595,  which  gives  three  hundred  years  of  history. 

The  fact  of  Ndeng-ei  and  many  other  of  the  Polynesians  having 
landed  on  the  western  coasts  of  Viti  Levu,  affords  a  peg  to  those  who 
maintain  the  theory  that  they  came  from  the  north-west  in  making 
their  way  into  the  Pacific.  Most  probably  they  did  in  their  original 
migrations  come  from  there,  as  both  they  and  the  Melanesian 
inhabitants  believe  that  at  death  their  souls  return  thither,  and  all 
what  are  called  in  Fijian  the  “  jumping  off  places  ”  are  generally 
precipitous  cliffs  facing  the  north-west.  From  these  the  spirits  of 
the  dead  wing  their  way  to  a  far-away  island  called  Qaloqalo,  which 
literally  means  “  swimming  from  or  to,”  and  it  is  probably  a  dim 
mythical  recollection  of  the  place  from  whence  they  came.  In  the 
off  season  when  the  trades  cease,  westerly  winds  blow  sometimes  for 


Polynesian  Adventurers  85 

days  together  ;  the  wrack  and  drift  that  it  brings  up  causes  the 
Fijians  to  say,  “  Lo,  a  wind  from  Qaloqalo,  the  island  of  the  blessed.” 

Fornander  is  the  great  apostle  of  the  theory  that  the  Polynesians 
came  from  the  north-west.  He  maintains  that  they  left  the  Asiatic 
Archipelago  somewhere  between  a.d.  150-250,  taking  Fiji  on  their 
way,  and  there  they  sojourned  for  some  three  centuries  until  they 
were  turned  out  by  the  Melanesians.  In  support  of  his  arguments 
he  says  that  they  left  serpent  worship  behind  them,  and  mentions 
Ndeng-ei,  who  was  venerated  in  that  guise.  But  as  I  have  already 
said,  ancestral  worship  deified  him,  and  his  totem  being  a  snake,  in 
course  of  time  he  was  known  under  that  form  only.  All  the  ancestral 
spirits  or  originating  spirits  had  totems,  whose  shapes  they  could  take, 
resuming  their  own  again  at  will.  That  transformation  is  called 
lia,  and  Ndeng-ei  was  lia  eng-ata  (change  into  snake),  that  is  he  could 
become  a  serpent  at  will  and  a  man  again  whenever  he  desired.  So 
far  from  the  Polynesians  having  arrived  in  Viti  Levu  so  many 
centuries  ago,  all  the  evidence  in  my  possession  points  to  certain 
bodies  of  them  having  made  their  way  thither  about  the  close  of 
the  fifteenth  century  at  the  earliest.  I  am  speaking  about  Ndeng-ei 
and  Viti  Levu.  I  think  it  most  probable  that  prior  to  his  arrival 
Polynesians  were  making  their  way  to  the  eastern  isles  of  Fiji,  and 
effecting  settlements  there. 

I  claim  that  the  histories  and  genealogies  in  my  possession  are 
independent  testimonies,  and  corroborate  each  other.  I  did  not 
write  them  down  myself,  I  had  not  time  to  do  so.  At  different 
times  I  had  the  greater  part  of  Viti  Levu  within  my  jurisdiction  and 
spent  twenty-six  years  amidst  the  hill  tribes.  I  have  already  said  that 
many  of  the  Fijians  have  distinctly  scholarly  tastes,  and  there  was 
always  a  large  native  clerical  staff  under  me.  The  Wesleyans  have 
given  a  distinctly  Biblical  atmosphere  to  our  administrative  nomen¬ 
clature.  Hence  a  clerk  is  always  called  a  “  scribe.”  The  head  man 
in  my  office  was  dignified  as  “  The  Provincial  Scribe.”  Each  province 
contained  so  many  districts  with  a  Mbuli  or  head  man,  whose  secre¬ 
tary  or  clerk  was  “  The  District  Scribe.”  Besides  those  there  were 
the  clerks  of  the  different  courts,  all  of  whom  also  were  called  scribes. 
I  used  to  employ  these  men  to  write  out  the  legends,  histories,  and 
genealogies  of  their  different  districts  for  which  I  gave  them  small 
remunerations  out  of  my  own  pocket.  I  started  doing  so  almost 
immediately  I  went  to  live  among  the  hill  tribes.  Most  of  the  his¬ 
tories  I  have  left  untouched  until  recently,  and  I  am  now  astonished 
at  the  way  they  fit  into  each  other.  Had  I  read  them  before  I  left 
Fiji  and  had  had  time  to  go  into  them  thoroughly,  much  more  might 


86 


Polynesian  Adventurers 

have  been  brought  to  light.  But  they  have  this  value  now  that  they 
are  independent  testimonies,  and  not  woven  to  fit  a  preconceived 
theory.  The  manuscripts  are,  of  course,  in  Fijian.  The  most  inter¬ 
esting  is  that  which  gives  the  history  of  the  Noemalu  tribe,  a  most 
chief-like  clan,  with  which  I  was  closely  associated.  Their  first 
known  ancestor  landed  with  a  considerable  band  at  the  extreme 
southern  part  of  Viti  Levu  close  to  the  small  island  of  Serua,  about 
a.d.  1635.  The  name  of  the  hero  who  led  them  was  Qithatambua, 
and  apparently  he  came  from  a  place  called  Emalu.  He  made  his 
way  up  the  Navua  River  till  he  reached  Muanavatu,  a  big  central 
tableland.  From  thence  he  went  down  to  the  Wainimosi,  one  of 
the  head  affluents  of  the  Singatoka.  There  he  settled,  and  called 
the  place  Emalu,  after  the  country  from  which  he  came.  He  took 
wives  unto  himself  of  the  daughters  of  the  land,  and  his  descendants 
have  ever  since  called  themselves  the  “  Noemalu  ”  or  dwellers  in 
Emalu.  They  enthroned  and  consecrated  one  of  his  sons  as  their 
chieftain,  calling  him  Roko  Tui  Vuna ,  which  means  the  sacred  and 
royal  founder  of  the  clan.  Their  history  is  no  shadowy  myth ;  the 
confederation  of  villages  which  enthroned  him,  the  place  of  it  and 
the  laws  enacted  then,  are  all  duly  recorded.  His  successors  and  their 
acts  are  all  also  properly  chronicled. 

The  clan  alongside  of  which  they  settled  is  called  the  Noikoro, 
or  dwellers  in  Koro.  Their  first  known  ancestor  was  also  a  Polynesian, 
who  in  all  probability  was  a  follower  of  the  great  Ndeng-ei,  as  he  made 
his  way  inland  from  the  Western  coast  near  Vunda.  He  apparently 
did  not  have  a  large  following  like  the  Emalu  here,  but  he  bolstered 
up  his  fame  by  assuring  the  Koro  people  that  he  had  arrived  riding  a 
shark.  As  he  also  was  good-looking  he  was  adopted  by  the  tribe  as 
their  chief,  and  when  in  1895  I  was  Acting  Resident  Commissioner 
of  Tholo  West,  in  which  province  they  resided,  the  Provincial  Scribe 
was  ninth  in  descent  from  him. 

Everywhere,  with  one  exception,  these  Polynesians  were  kindly 
and  hospitably  received.  Tui  Ung-ura,  the  founder  of  the  Mataku 
tribe,  he  who  set  up  the  stone  calendar  of  the  months,  was  the  only 
one  who  met  with  an  untoward  fate.  It  is  stated  that  he  too  landed 
at  Tuva,  and  settled  in  the  middle  reaches  of  the  Singatoka  River. 
After  establishing  himself  there  he  was  attacked  by  Nalawatawa,  the 
head  of  the  Nukuvura  clan,  who  slew  him.  The  chronicler  says  that 
Nalawatawa  was  one  of  the  aboriginal  chiefs,  and  took  ten  bands  of 
warriors  to  the  fight.  Time,  however,  brought  revenge,  and  his  tribe 
ultimately  became  absorbed  in  that  of  the  rival  whom  he  killed. 

The  fact  that  Ndeng-ei  and  his  followers  landed  on  the  north- 


Polynesian  Adventurers  87 

western  shores  of  Viti  Levu  is  made  an  argument  that  they  came  from 
that  direction.  It  is  much  more  likely  that  the  south-east  trade 
swept  them  into  the  group  through  the  eastern  islands,  where  very 
probably  they  rested  and  refreshed  themselves,  and  then  blew  them 
further  along  between  the  two  great  lands  of  Viti  Levu  and  Vanua 
Levu.  That  is  the  way  Bligh  came  when  he  made  his  celebrated 
boat  voyage  after  the  mutiny  of  the  Bounty  in  1789,  shortly  after 
leaving  Tahiti.  The  first  known  chart  of  any  part  of  Fiji  is  that 
made  by  him,  and  for  some  time  it  was  known  as  Bligh’s  Islands.  In 
the  original  edition  of  his  book,  dated  1792,  there  is  a  “  Chart  of 
Bligh’s  Islands,  Discovered  by  Lt.  William  Bligh  in  the  Bounty's 
Launch.”  The  track  that  he  took  is  shown  on  it,  and  on  the  7th 
May,  1789,  the  boat  almost  touched  the  islets  of  Nananu,  just  off 
the  extreme  northern  point  of  Viti  Levu.  For  many  years  I  was  the 
Stipendiary  Magistrate  for  that  part  of  the  island,  and  the  chart  is  a 
perfect  sketch  of  that  particular  spot,  and  corresponds  accurately 
with  the  ordnance  map.  The  latter  was  made  when  peace  prevailed, 
and  when  there  was  every  facility  for  making  the  survey.  How 
different  from  the  conditions  under  which  Bligh  laboured,  cramped 
up  in  a  twenty-three  foot  boat,  drenched  with  spray  and  starved. 
It  shows  what  a  resolute  and  observant  officer  he  was,  and  that  under 
the  most  adverse  circumstances  he  could,  like  his  great  master, 
Captain  Cook,  produce  a  delineation  easily  recognisable  at  the  present 
day. 

The  south-east  trade  wind  blows  fair  and  straight  on  to  Kamba, 
the  most  eastern  point  of  Viti  Levu.  There  the  island  deflects  the 
wind,  splitting  it  in  two,  one  current  following  the  coast  almost  north, 
and  the  other  south.  A  craft  there,  to  use  a  nautical  term,  can  bear 
up  and  sail  with  a  fair  wind  down  either  side  of  the  island.  To  quote 
a  Fijian  meke  or  song  : 

“  Over  the  point  of  Rewa  sighs  the  soft  south  breeze, 

It  shakes  the  blooms  off  the  sinu  trees.” 

The  two  currents  rushing  down  each  side  of  Viti  Levu  meet  at 
Navula,  the  extreme  western  point  of  the  island.  One  can  stand 
there  and  see  boats  coming  down  either  side  with  the  wind  behind 
them,  and  then  as  they  round  it  both  are  taken  aback.  Besides  many 
other  voyages  I  twice  circumnavigated  the  island  in  an  open  boat, 
and  encountered  the  phenomenon.  Navula  is  just  northward  from 
Tuva,  and  a  little  south  of  Vunda  where  so  many  of  the  Polynesians 
landed.  They  could  have  been  brought  thither  by  the  trade  wind, 
either  by  way  of  the  northern  or  southern  coasts, 


CHAPTER  VIII 


Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies 

THERE  is  hardly  any  knowledge  of  the  origin  of  the 
Melanesian  race  which  existed  in  Viti  before  the  Poly¬ 
nesian  adventurers  appeared  upon  the  scene.  As  the 
Fijians  shared  with  them  the  belief  that  their  souls  after 
death  flew  away  to  the  north-west,  there  is  ground  for  thinking  that 
they  too  came  from  that  direction  in  a  forgotten  age,  possibly  from 
Asiatic  shores,  as  some  of  the  old  ceremonies  smack  of  the  ancient 
religions  of  the  East.  The  Cult  of  the  Nang-a,  which  I  hope  to  lay 
before  you  in  this  chapter,  was  introduced  by  two  mystic  individuals 
who  are  said  to  have  come  from  the  north-west,  and  taught  certain 
rites  to  the  people  at  the  place  where  they  landed.  Its  legend  may 
be  the  dim  record  of  a  distant  immigration,  and  the  creed  it  imparted 
makes  me  think  of  the  old  time  deities,  Baal  and  Ashtoreth. 

There  may  have  been  an  aboriginal  population  when  the  Melane¬ 
sians  arrived.  The  natives  of  my  time  used  to  maintain  that  the 
forests  and  waste  spaces  were  still  inhabited  by  a  dwarf  or  pygmy 
people,  visible  only  to  the  faithful,  handsome  little  folk  with  large 
fuzzy  mops  of  hair,  miniatures  of  what  their  own  were  like  until 
they  were  cropped  in  deference  to  the  sanitary  requirements  of  the 
Wesleyan  missionaries. 

These  little  sylvan  creatures  were  called  V  eli  and  took  the  place  of 
our  own  fairies.  They  loved  the  woods,  the  open  grasslands  and  the 
sparkling  brooks,  and  dwelt  in  hollow  trees,  caves  and  dugouts.  They 
had  their  own  bananas,  kava  and  other  wild  plants  from  which  the 
varieties  now  in  cultivation  have  been  evolved.  There  is  a  beautiful 
fern  called  the  Iri  ni  V  eli ,  the  fan  of  the  fairies,  so  called  from  its 
resemblance  to  the  fronds  of  the  magnificent  Prichardia  Pacifica , 
from  which  are  made  the  viu  or  palm  fans,  one  of  the  insignia  of 
chiefly  rank. 

A  theory  has  recently  been  advanced  that  our  own  fairies  were 
the  survivors  of  the  cave-men,  and  of  the  aboriginal  race  which  once 
populated  Britain,  and  our  tales  of  them  a  dim  recollection  of  the 

88 


Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies  89 

past.  It  may  be,  too,  that  the  V eli  are  also  a  misty  memory  of  the 
former  inhabitants  of  Viti.  There  h  a  superstition  always  latent  in 
the  hill  country  called  Luve-ni-wai,  which  rather  prettily  means  “  The 
Water  Babies.”  It  existed  in  my  time,  and  in  the  very  last  letters 
which  I  received  from  my  old  district  I  heard  that  it  was  still 
going  on. 

Sir  John  Thurston,  who,  before  the  annexation  of  Fiji  by  Great 
Britain,  had  been  British  Consul  for  so  many  years,  and  was  Governor 
from  1888  to  1897  and  died  in  harness,  was  the  first  to  draw  my 
thought  towards  the  consideration  of  native  myths  and  legends.  He 
lent  me  Fornander’s  book,  The  Polynesian  Race:  Its  Origin  and 
Migrations,  De  Quatrefarge’s  Race  Polynesienne,  and  many  other 
similar  works.  I  made  several  journeys  inland  with  him,  and  he  gave 
me  a  great  deal  of  most  valuable  instruction  in  native  affairs.  He 
used  to  remind  me  of  the  kindly  captains  of  my  favourite  novel 
writer,  Captain  Marryat,  who  endeavoured  to  be  the  teachers  and 
friends  of  their  young  officers.  I  remember  that  after  one  of  my 
long  rambles  in  the  hills,  he  asked  what  I  thought  the  ancient  religion 
of  the  country  had  been.  I  promptly  answered  “  phallic,”  and  I 
think,  without  doubt,  that  it  was  the  bedrock  upon  which  the  whole 
system  of  ancestral  worship  rested. 

Phallic  and  sacred  stones  were  to  be  found  every  here  and  there 
in  the  hill  country,  one  of  which  I  remember  particularly  well.  In 
1886  Sir  John  Thurston  directed  me  to  try  to  ascend  Mount 
Victoria  from  the  east.  The  Mbuli  of  Mboumbutho  was  my  guide, 
and  we  were  accompanied  by  a  large  following  of  his  men.  Our 
path  was  the  bed  of  the  Nasongo  River  until  the  numerous  falls  and 
big  boulders  forced  us  to  leave  it  and  climb  into  the  forest  land 
above.  Before  we  did  so,  we  came  to  a  little  strip  of  shingle  beach 
bordering  the  stream.  In  its  midst  was  a  small  phallus,  evidently  a 
fragment  or  splinter  of  rock  surrounded  by  a  few  round  water-worn 
stones.  The  Mbuli  laughingly  pointed  it  out  to  me  and  said,  “  That 
it  our  thavuniP  He  meant  that  it  was  the  point  or  place  from  which 
his  tribe  had  sprung.  The  Native  Wesleyan  Minister  of  the  District 
was  accompanying  us,  he  whom  I  have  already  mentioned  as  having 
gone  to  remonstrate  with  his  equivalent  in  the  other  sect  when  the 
Roman  Catholic  Bishop  was  capsized  in  the  rapids.  The  sacred 
emblems  were  not  too  heavy  to  carry  off,  and  I  regret  to  say  that  my 
reverend  friend  bagged  them  and  took  them  eventually  to  his 
European  superior.  He  did  not,  of  course,  take  them  without  the 
permission  of  the  owners,  but  he  begged  them  after  the  custom  of 
Fiji  (kerekere),  and  the  owners  did  not  like  to  say  him  nay.  That  was 


90  Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies 

the  worst  of  having  any  of  the  Wesleyan  native  clergy  with  one. 
They  were  trained  to  show  contempt  for  any  of  the  old  superstitions. 
On  another  occasion  I  was  crossing  from  the  upper  Nasongo  River 
to  the  Wainimbuka  valley,  and  a  very  rugged  pass  had  to  be  en¬ 
countered  en  route  called  the  Mathang-a.  The  track  was  so  steep 
and  difficult  that  it  was  the  custom  of  those  who  arrived  at  its  head 
to  pick  up  a  stone  and  present  it  as  a  votive  offering  to  the  spirit  of 
the  place.  As  far  as  I  know  I  am  the  only  European  who  ever  visited 
the  spot.  After  the  guide,  I  was  the  first  of  the  party  to  reach  it. 
There  was  a  long  bough  with  a  fine  flat  surface  extending  from  an 
old  and  hoary  tree,  tightly  packed  with  pebbles,  deposited  there  by 
passers-by  as  the  price  of  their  safety.  The  guide  explained  the 
custom  to  me,  and  I  offered  a  stone  and  went  on.  I  had  not  got  many 
steps  away  when  I  heard  a  loud  crash  and  looking  backwards,  saw 
that  a  village  Wesleyan  teacher  had  swept  off  the  stones  with  his 
long  walking  staff.  I  was  very  angry,  and  remonstrated  with  the 
perpetrator  of  the  outrage,  but  he  was  supported  by  the  conviction 
of  having  performed  a  righteous  deed,  and  I  was  too  exhausted  by  the 
severity  of  the  climb  to  say  all  I  should  like  to  have  done. 

This  Mathang-a  Pass  is  the  last  of  three  remarkable  gaps  stretch¬ 
ing  in  an  almost  straight  line  between  the  watershed  of  the  Nasongo 
and  the  Wainimbuka  Rivers  and  the  coast  range  at  the  back  of 
Rakiraki,  on  the  northern  coast  of  Viti  Levu.  They  can  be  seen  from 
many  of  the  lofty  ridges  inland,  and  form  a  striking  feature  of  the 
landscape,  being  seemingly  equidistant  from  each  other,  the  intervals 
being  about  five  miles.  From  Mathang-a,  the  last  of  them,  to  the 
sea  at  Rakiraki  is  twenty  miles,  and  from  thence  almost  due  north  it 
is  fifty  miles  to  Mbua  Bay  on  the  south-west  coast  of  Vanua  Levu. 
There  in  the  days  of  yore  that  god-like  canoe,  the  Rong-o-Voka,  the 
Far  Famed  Ebb,  lay  at  anchor  under  the  command  of  Roko  Ua,  the 
Noble  Flood  Tide.  Orders  were  given  to  step  the  mast  and  get  the 
magic  craft  under  way.  But  even  the  gods  are  sometimes  fallible, 
and  before  the  foot  of  the  mast  could  be  got  into  the  chock  which 
kept  it  in  position,  it  slipped  and  fell  and  seventy  miles  away  the 
crutch  at  its  head,  through  which  the  main  halliards  passed,  crashed 
into  the  Mboumbutho  hills  and  cut  the  gorge  at  Mathang-a,  and 
made  also  the  Pass  of  Mbolci  just  behind  Rakiraki,  and  the  gap  at 
Wailiwaliwa  on  the  Wainimbuka.  Nothing  daunted,  the  heroic 
crew  once  more  made  the  attempt,  and  sweated  the  gigantic  mast 
into  its  proper  place.  A  great  clod  cut  from  Mathang-a  stuck  in  the 
crutch  and  fell  into  Mbua  Bay,  and  formed  an  island  as  the  wonderful 
spar  reached  the  perpendicular.  This  is  a  true  story,  as  the  island  can 


Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies  91 

be  seen  to  this  day.  It  has  the  same  coloured  earth  and  rocks  and 
trees  similar  to  those  growing  at  Mathang-a  :  therefore  there  can  be 
no  doubt  about  it. 

The  whole  region  round  the  three  gaps  is  the  home  of  much 
ancient  lore,  and  is  inhabited  mostly  by  purely  Melanesian  tribes, 
prominent  among  which  are  the  Mboumbutho.  These  clans  call 
themselves  the  Oelendina,  which  means  true  earth  or  soil,  and  it 
reminded  me  of  the  French  term  of  vieille  roche  as  applied  to  the  old 
nobility.  They  used  to  celebrate  a  great  mystic  annual  yam  festival 
called  the  Ruku,  a  word  synonymous  with  yoni,  the  Hindu  symbol  of 
the  fertility  of  nature.  It  took  place  in  the  interval  between  the 
harvesting  of  the  old  yam  crop  and  the  planting  of  the  new,  the 
staff  of  life  of  the  Fijians  as  bread  is  to  us.  The  yams  were  dug  at 
the  end  of  the  cool  season,  in  about  July  or  August.  In  September 
the  trees,  which  are  the  harbingers  of  spring,  began  to  show  their 
flowers  and  heralded  the  near  approach  of  the  gods  of  creation,  who 
in  their  beneficence  visited  the  earth  to  impart  their  fertilising 
essences.  During  their  stay  it  was  imperative  to  maintain  the  utmost 
silence  lest  they  should  be  frightened  away.  Before  their  arrival  the 
priests  consulted  the  ancestral  spirits,  and  then  proclaimed  the  time 
for  the  holding  of  the  Ruku. 

It  lasted  for  ten  days,  and  was  a  season  of  great  rejoicing  and 
festivity,  and  marked  the  division  between  the  old  and  new  year, 
and  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  the  same  as  our  New  Year  Day. 

In  preparation  for  it  great  logs  of  firewood  were  brought  in  and 
placed  point  to  point  in  the  various  Mbure  or  tribal  halls,  especially 
in  the  little  Mbure  Kalou  or  abode  of  the  ancestral  spirit.  At  dawn 
of  the  first  day  of  the  Ruku  these  logs  were  kindled,  those  in  the 
shrine  being  the  first  to  be  lit.  From  then  until  noon  the  people  had 
to  remain  recumbent  on  their  mats,  and  maintain  the  most  absolute 
silence  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  gods.  All  doors  were  kept  closed  and 
nobody  was  allowed  to  go  outside.  After  midday  it  was  permissible 
to  cook  and  eat  food. 

The  day  following  was  also  a  holy  one,  and  the  people  kept  within 
the  villages  and  were  not  allowed  to  bathe.  Those  who  did  so  went 
mad,  from  which  arose  a  proverb,  “Why  are  you  such  a  fool;  perhaps 
you  bathed  during  the  Ruku  P  ”  It  was  believed,  too,  that  children 
born  at  this  time  grew  up  stupid  and  would  die  ere  long. 

The  Fijians  have  a  system  of  begging  from  each  other  called 
kerekere.  They  will  tell  you  that  it  prevents  them  from  ever 
amassing  property  of  any  sort,  as  when  anything  is  asked  according 
to  this  custom  of  the  country  refusal  is  impossible.  A  man  may 


92  Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies 

work  for  a  month  and  buy  a  nice  coat  or  a  warm  shirt,  but  he  knows 
as  soon  as  he  goes  home  it  will  be  kere'd  from  him.  Native  reformers 
have  protested  against  it,  and  passed  many  resolutions  in  the  Pro¬ 
vincial  Councils  for  its  abolition,  which  after  a  short  time  of  observ¬ 
ance  always  fell  into  desuetude  during  my  sojourn  in  Tholo.  The 
custom  was  too  strenuously  rooted,  and  its  eradication  required  more 
perseverance  than  the  casual  Fijian  cared  to  maintain. 

During  the  Ruku  the  custom  of  kerekere  is  intensified,  and  it 
was  then  called  kanda.  It  was  a  period  of  Saturnalia ;  nothing 
could  be  refused,  and  it  was  a  time  of  universal  licence  altogether 
indescribable. 

The  yam  is  a  convolvulus,  and  when  its  young  vines  shoot  forth 
they  are  trained  up  the  stems  of  the  sina,  as  the  tall  native  spear- 
grass,  which  flowers  like  our  pampas-grass,  is  called.  That  is  its  name 
in  Tholo,  but  in  the  Mbauan  dialect  it  is  known  as  thina.  As  the 
Ruku  is  the  feminine  symbol,  so  the  sina  or  thina  is  the  masculine. 
In  many  of  the  maritime  districts  a  lecherous  deity,  a  sort  of  Priapus, 
was  worshipped  under  the  name  of  Ndau  thina.  Tied  up  in  bundles 
these  reeds  are  used  as  torches,  which  are  also  called  sina  or  thina,  and 
the  name  is  now  applied  to  our  candles,  and  all  sorts  of  lamps  and 
lights  introduced  by  the  vavalang-i  or  white  foreigners.  On  certain 
occasions  obscene  dances  suggestive  of  married  life  were  performed, 
and  the  virile  emblems  were  then  represented  by  long  bundles  of 
spear-grass  tied  up  in  the  same  way  as  torches. 

Kanda,  the  intensified  form  of  kerekere  in  vogue  during  the 
Rukuruku,  simply  means  to  climb.  When  the  young  shoots  of  the 
yam  appear,  stems  of  the  sina  are  stuck  in  the  ground  for  them  to 
kanda  or  climb.  Then  there  are  great  games  of  spear  throwing  called 
tinga,  and  matches  are  played  between  village  and  village  for  which 
special  pitches  are  prepared.  The  spears  are  merely  the  shafts  of  the 
sina  with  heads  of  hard  wood  called  ulu  toa.  I  have  seen  a  few  of  the 
latter  fashioned  from  the  ivory  of  the  cachalot  teeth,  but  these  are 
few  and  far  between.  Some  of  these  ulu  toa  are  said  to  be  men  and 
some  women.  In  the  former  there  are  sockets  which  fit  into  the 
sina  stems,  and  in  the  latter  grooves,  into  which  the  spear  is  inserted, 
and  the  two  together  may  be  symbolical  of  the  union  of  the  sexes. 
All  this  is  redolent  of  phallic  worship,  but  my  remarks  here  are  but 
inferences  deduced  from  the  actual  meaning  of  native  words.  The 
people  themselves  have  more  or  less  forgotten  the  more  ancient 
parts  of  their  faith,  and  phallicism  has  been  lost  in  ancestral  religion. 
I  never  could  get  my  native  friends  to  explain  the  reason  of  their 
customs,  and  was  afraid  to  cross-examine  too  closely.  Fijians  are 


Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies  93 

intuitive  and  quickly  grasp  what  one  would  like  to  be  told,  and  in 
their  generous  desire  to  please  frame  their  replies  accordingly. 

Yams  are  best  grown  by  men,  and  the  ndalo  or  edible  arum  by 
women  ;  in  fact  the  latter,  although  it  may  be  planted  and  culti¬ 
vated  by  males,  only  flourishes  really  under  female  management. 
During  the  holding  of  the  Ruku,  bundles  of  tikau,  the  wild  yam,  were 
brought  to  the  Mbure  wrapped  up  in  turmeric  leaves,  and  wound 
round  with  the  vines  of  the  wakele,  another  variety  of  wild  yam. 
They  were  placed  upon  a  heap  of  ndalo  stalks  resting  on  a  bed  of 
fragrant  plants.  The  presiding  priest  then  presented  them  as  a  thank- 
offering  to  the  ancestral  spirits,  offering  up  this  prayer  : 

“  Oh  !  gods  of  our  fathers,  listen  to  us  that  our  yams  may  flourish 
and  our  ndalo  bring  forth  their  increase ;  let  our  past  crop  which  we 
have  just  garnered  be  as  nothing  to  that  which  we  shall  gather  this 
next  season.” 

I  have  drawn  most  of  this  from  the  account  written  for  me  by  an 
Mboumbutho  chief,  and  will  conclude  with  his  own  words  : 

“  During  the  ten  days  of  the  Ruku  it  was  tambu  to  visit  the  yam 
and  ndalo  fields.  It  was  the  time  of  the  gods  who  were  called  the 
Sevunganga,  the  Mighty  First  Fruits.  It  was  the  division,  too,  of  the 
seasons,  after  which  the  people  might  go  to  their  gardens,  and  greatly 
indeed  would  the  crops  then  flourish  because  of  the  prayers  and 
supplications  which  had  been  made.” 

These  annual  yam  festivals  were  universal  throughout  old  Fiji. 
With  the  Qelendina  or  original  inhabitants  they  were  called  the  Ruku , 
and  in  other  parts  the  Tambaki,  Baki,  Y evaki ,  and  other  variations 
of  the  word  yambaki ,  which  means  either  a  year  or  a  yam.  From 
the  planting  of  the  tuber  till  its  maturity,  and  its  return  to  the  earth 
again  as  seed  for  another  crop,  was  practically  a  year,  and  I  have 
heard  the  word  yambaki  used  indiscriminately  either  for  a  year  or  a 
crop  of  yams.  Fijians  have  now  adopted  our  calendar  of  tw-elve 
months  as  their  year,  which,  however,  they  still  call  yambaki. 

The  cult  of  the  Nang-a  had  also  an  annual  festival,  which  some 
are  apt  to  confuse  with  the  Ruku  or  Mbaki,  but  it  is  altogether 
distinct.  There  is  one  point  of  resemblance,  the  Saturnalia,  or 
general  licence  which  obtained  then.  It  was  a  rite  of  initiation,  and 
indescribable  orgies  were  perpetrated,  quite  unfit  to  be  recorded  by 
the  polite  pen.  So  far  from  silence  being  observed  pandemonium 
prevailed,  and  the  ordinary  virtuous  and  staid  people  of  Tholo  then 
seemed  to  lose  their  senses  altogether.  One  of  the  meke  or  chants 
describe  it  as  a  song  or  dance  of  the  mad. 

There  is  a  long  legend,  too  lengthy  for  such  a  work  as  this. 


94  Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies 

Condensed  briefly  from  the  native  manuscript  given  me  by  Ro  Joni 
Kuranduandua,  for  many  years  a  Native  Stipendiary  Magistrate,  and 
my  colleague  on  the  bench  of  the  Provincial  Court  of  Tholo  East, 
it  is  as  follows  : 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  NANG-A 

It  is  said  the  Nang-a  was  brought  hither  by  two  individuals  named 
Visina  and  Rukuruku.  They  drifted  across  the  Big  Ocean,  and 
passing  through  the  Yasawa  Group  landed  at  Vitong-o  on  the  north¬ 
west  coast  of  Viti  Levu.  Visina  arrived  first  and  fell  into  a  deep 
slumber,  and  slept  on  till  Rukuruku  landed  at  the  same  place.  Where 
Visina  rested  sprang  the  wild  turmeric,  and  his  followers  when 
celebrating  his  rites  anointed  their  bodies  with  its  roots  made  up 
into  a  paste.  At  the  spot  where  Rukuruku  reached  the  shore  there 
grew  the  candle-nut  tree  ( Aleurities  triloba ),  and  the  black  made 
from  its  shell  is  that  with  which  the  votaries  of  that  sect  paint  their 
bodies  when  they  go  to  the  sacred  precincts  of  the  Nang-a. 

Conferring  together  they  said,  “  Let  us  go  to  the  Chief  of 
Vitong-o  and  ask  him  to  divide  his  people  between  us,  that  we  may 
teach  them  our  mysteries,  for  which  purpose  have  we  come  to  Viti.” 
They  preferred  their  request  to  the  Chief  who  replied  :  “  Good, 
divide  the  people  between  you  and  instruct  them  in  the  rites  of  the 
Nang-a,  which  you  say  is  the  name  of  your  cult.” 

Visina  and  Rukuruku  divided  the  people,  separating  them  into 
three  parts,  the  old  men  whom  they  called  Vere,  or  the  priests  of  the 
Order,  the  Vunilolo ,  the  young  manhood,  who  were  the  warriors  and 
mainstay,  and  the  Vila  V ou,  the  youthful  members  just  verging  on 
puberty.  The  descendants  of  these  men  taught  their  children  what 
they  learnt  then,  and  the  knowledge  has  been  imparted  from  genera¬ 
tion  to  generation.  The  rites  of  Visina  are  different  from  those  of 
Rukuruku,  and  it  was  forbidden  under  pain  of  sudden  death  or 
madness  for  the  votaries  of  the  one  sect  to  divulge  its  mysteries  to 
the  other.  They  were  celebrated  annually  in  a  solemn  ceremony 
called  the  “  Solevu  ni  V ila  V ou ,”  when  the  novices  of  the  tribe  were 
made  acquainted  with  the  secrets  of  creation.  As  it  was  a  matter  of 
tribal  and  brotherly  love,  although  the  votaries  of  Visina  and 
Rukuruku  might  not  tell  each  other  their  respective  practices,  each 
year  certain  of  the  youths  were  exchanged  between  these  two 
divisions.  By  mutual  arrangement  their  annual  festivals  alternated 
with  each  other. 

Nang-a  are  stone  enclosures  each  with  four  altars,  the  first  of 
which  was  built  at  Vitong-o  and  dedicated  to  the  use  of  Visina,  the 


Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies  95 

pattern  of  which  has  since  been  followed  by  those  tribes  who  became 
followers  of  the  mystery. 

That  shortly  is  the  narrative  of  Ro  Joni  Kuranduandua,  which 
purports  to  be  an  account  of  the  rites  practised  by  the  followers  of 
Visina.  The  people  had  become  Christians  before  I  arrived  among 
them,  and  I  learnt  from  other  sources  what  was  inculcated  by  the 
adherents  of  Rukuruku,  that  is,  as  much  as  they  thought  they  might 
decently  tell.  They  had  by  then  begun  to  feel  shame  at  the  wild 
revels  which  they  held  at  these  great  festivals. 

Reading  between  the  lines,  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  cult  of 
V isina  corresponded  with  that  of  Baal,  and  Rukuruku  with  Ashtoreth, 
the  ancient  deities  of  the  creative  and  productive  powers  of  nature. 
In  speaking  of  the  feast  of  the  Ruku  as  practised  by  the  purely 
Melanesian  tribes  of  central  inland  Viti  Levu,  I  have  mentioned  the 
simple  meaning  of  sina,  the  native  spear-grass,  and  of  its  being  the 
masculine  symbol,  and  Ruku  the  feminine.  Visina  is  but  the  plural 
of  sina ,  and  implies  a  plump  of  spears  or  the  male  sex  generally,  or 
a  torch,  and  Rukuruku  is  the  diminutive  of  Ruku  and  significant  of 
women.  The  candle-nut,  the  special  adjunct  of  her  followers,  is 
also  a  source  of  fire  and  heat.  Its  kernels  impaled  on  a  splint  of  sina 
or  spear-grass  were  used  as  candles  until  kerosene  lamps  took  their 
place. 

Fire  and  fecundity  seem  to  be  mixed  up  mysteriously  together. 
Nearly  three  hundred  years  ago  one  of  the  younger  brothers  of 
Tombayawene,  the  god-like  ancestor  of  the  Vatusila  tribe  in  Tholo 
North,  let  the  sacred  fire  go  out  in  the  great  Mbure  at  Vandrana- 
sing-a,  the  capital  village.  His  enraged  elder  and  chieftain  banished 
him  for  this  offence,  and  crossing  the  main  divide  he  settled  in  Tholo 
East,  where  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  his  descendants  when  I  went 
to  live  in  the  hill  country. 

Nang-a  in  the  dialect  of  Noemalu,  Noikero,  and  their  affiliated 
clans  means  simply  a  mat,  a  heap  of  which  forms  a  bed.  In  a  subse¬ 
quent  chapter  on  marriage  customs  an  account  will  be  given  of  the 
spreading  of  mats  for  the  nuptial  couch  when  a  wedding  takes 
place.  The  great  yearly  festival  of  the  Nang-a  was  symbolical  of 
the  mystic  bed  of  the  tribe  when  the  rising  generation  was  initiated 
and  taught  the  great  secret  of  life. 

The  stone  enclosures  where  the  weird  rites  took  place  were  built 
at  night  by  the  light  of  the  full  moon,  and  the  initiation  and  the 
solemn  feasts  held  in  connection  with  it  occurred  under  similar 
conditions.  In  my  opinion  those  of  Rukuruku  were  altogether  more 


96  Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies 

terrible  than  those  of  Visina,  and  as  becoming  her  sex,  suggestive  of 
the  birth  of  children. 

In  1886,  I  think,  the  Noemalu  people  showed  me  one  of  their 
Nang-a  at  Wainamu,  a  small  brook,  on  whose  level  banks  the  sacred 
enclosure  had  been  constructed.  It  faced  east  and  west  like  our 
churches,  and  was  merely  a  parallelogram  marked  out  on  a  grassy 
lawn  with  rough  water-worn  stones  taken  from  the  stream.  The 
eastern  and  western  bases  were  twenty-one  feet  broad,  and  the 
northern  and  southern  forty-two  feet  long.  At  each  corner  were 
pyramids  of  stones  nine  feet  square  at  the  base,  five  feet  high,  with 
a  flat  top  surface  of  six  feet  by  four,  which  formed  altars  upon  which 
were  laid  the  offerings  to  the  gods.  When  I  visited  the  place  there 
were  still  old  and  decayed  tambua  on  them,  honeycombed  with  age 
and  exposure  to  the  weather.  The  enclosure  within  the  altars  was 
called  the  Middle  Nang-a,  and  the  narrow  lanes  between  them  were 
the  entrances  by  which  the  novices  crawled  in  and  out.  Beyond  the 
western  altars  was  an  outer  court  called  the  Nang-a  7 ambutambu, 
which  is  best  translated  as  the  Holy  of  Holys,  in  which  the  V ere  or 
priests  awaited  the  novices,  and  which  usually  contained  a  small  but 
handsome  Mbure  Kalou  or  temple.  It  is  much  too  long  a  subject  to 
give  here  the  details  and  the  difference  in  the  rituals  of  Visina  and 
Rukuruku ,  which  were  complicated  and  minute.  I  would  merely 
add  that  initiation  of  the  boys  did  not  take  place  until  after  they  had 
undergone  the  ordeal  of  circumcision,  about  which  I  propose  to  give 
a  chapter  presently. 

I  saw  three  Nang-a  enclosures  and  found  them  all  similar  in 
appearance  and  measurements.  I  have  a  rough  plan  of  the  Nang-a 
at  Wainamu,  which  it  quite  close  to  Narokorokoyawa,  the  chief 
village  of  Noemalu.  In  the  line  of  stones  every  here  and  there  were 
gaps  through  which  the  votaries  might  pass  in  and  out.  It  was 
strictly  tambu  to  stride  over  the  stones,  and  the  proper  paths  had  to 
be  used  under  pain  of  sickness  and  death.  The  interiors  were  smooth 
lawns  of  the  native  couch-grass,  and  all  around  were  ornamental  and 
fragrant  shrubs. 

There  is  a  curious  resemblance  between  many  of  the  African 
languages  and  Fijian.  They  seem  to  have  the  same  liquid  sound, 
and  mostly  end  with  vowels.  The  Noemalu  tribe  calls  its  rite  of 
initiation  the  “  Nang-a.”  In  Sir  Harry  Johnston’s  most  interesting 
book,  The  History  of  the  Slave,  an  account  is  given  of  a  similar  cere¬ 
mony  practised  by  some  of  the  aboriginal  people  of  the  Western 
Sudan,  where  the  medicine-man  is  called  the  Nganga.  One  of  our 
protectorates  is  called  Tanganyika  from  the  lake  of  that  name.  In 


Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies  97 

Fijian  tang-a  ni  ika  means  a  net  for  fish.  The  East  African  names  : 
Mombasa,  Uganda,  Rewa,  Kalambo,  Gondakoro,  Koro,  Nakuru, 
have  their  counterparts  in  Fijian.  The  similarity  is  very  marked,  but 
not  easily  accountable. 

Of  the  worship  and  cult  of  Ndeng-ei,  the  great  creator  and 
serpent  god,  I  must  tell  you  hereafter.  It  obtruded  itself  very  much 
during  my  time,  its  doctrine  being  preached  by  one  Navosavakandua, 
who  posed  as  a  prophet  and  compounded  a  new  religion  founded  on 
the  old  Fijian  myths,  the  Bible  and  Christianity.  It  was  a  mad 
doctrine,  and  disturbed  the  peace  of  the  hill  people  and  myself.  It 
led  to  many  adventures  which  I  will  relate  as  they  occurred,  and 
which  are  the  best  exponents  of  the  faith  and  how  it  affected  its 
adherents. 


N 


W 


GROUND  PLAN  OF  NANG-A  AT  WAINAMU,  NEAR  N AROKOROROYAWA 

Visited  and  measured  by  the  Author 


G 


CHAPTER  IX 


Conscience 

5E  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out.” 

Conscience  troubles  the  Fijian  a  good  deal,  especially 
in  old  age  and  sickness.  In  former  times,  before  the 
advent  of  Christianity,  when  the  memory  of  past  sins  dis¬ 
turbed  a  man’s  mind  he  would  say  “  I  have  transgressed  the  Lawa 
Ruku  (the  law  of  ancient  Fijian  ancestor  worship),  therefore  must 
I  make  a  sacrifice.”  That  could  be  done  in  many  ways  such  as 
making  large  offerings  of  pigs  and  yams  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead, 
who  would  consume  their  spiritual  essences,  leaving  the  material 
parts  for  the  delectation  and  sustenance  of  their  priest  and  votaries. 
But  the  most  efficacious  propitiation  was  human  blood.  When 
human  bodies  were  not  available  the  supplicant  sinner  would  get  his 
young  relations  to  provide  the  blood  by  undergoing  the  rite  of 
circumcision. 

I  have  often  asked  men  who  looked  sick  and  ill  what  was  the  matter 
and  have  been  told  that  they  were  suffering  for  their  past  misdeeds. 
Most  probably  in  many  instances  they  were  paying  for  the  excesses  of 
youth,  but  in  their  own  minds  they  thought  it  was  retribution  for 
wickedness.  Many  and  many  a  time  have  I  been  told  that  “  The 
wages  of  sin  is  death.”  That  is  a  text  which  the  natives  believe  most 
implicitly. 

Under  the  old  law  and  at  the  present  time,  open  confession  is  the 
best  remedy  for  transgressors.  Sin  is  the  cause  of  so  many  ailments, 
which  are  aggravated  by  concealment.  Therefore  people  on  beds  of 
sickness  are  always  exhorted  by  their  relatives  and  friends  to  make 
clean  breasts  of  all  their  shortcomings.  But  those  in  such  circum¬ 
stances  very  often  are  unable  to  make  a  wholesome  survey  of  their 
past,  and  magnify  the  veriest  peccadilloes  into  deadly  sins.  I  have 
known  a  whole  community  set  by  the  ears  by  the  morbid  confession 
of  a  dying  woman  who  turned  her  harmless  and  innocent  flirtations 
and  friendships  into  something  infinitely  worse.  In  olden  days 
club  law  would  have  been  resorted  to  after  such  an  occasion.  As 
that  was  impossible  under  our  British  peace  I  was  applied  to,  and  I 

98 


Conscience 


99 

had  great  difficulty  in  persuading  the  offended  parties  that  there  was 
absolutely  no  evidence  to  support  their  charges. 

With  this  extreme  conscientiousness  is  mingled  a  great  deal  of 
generous  sympathy.  It  may  be  recollected  that  when  one  of  the  old 
men  confessed  to  having  partaken  of  the  flesh  of  the  murdered 
missionary,  another,  not  to  leave  his  friend  in  the  cold,  came  forward 
and  said  that  he  too  had  strangled  his  own  mother  in  the  bad  old 
days.  As  I  go  along  I  shall  have  similar  instances  to  bring  forward. 

No  enterprise  is  expected  to  succeed  when  accompanied  by  the 
loss  of  virtue.  The  hereditary  priests  by  incantation  were  able  to 
make  men  invulnerable.  The  ceremony  is  called  vondivondi,  and 
once  only  did  I  ever  see  it  being  done.  I  was  very  young  at  the  time, 
and  serving  in  the  first  Mba  Expedition  in  1871. 

We  were  indeed  an  undisciplined  mob,  and  it  has  always  been  a 
standing  wonder  to  me  that  the  kai  Tholo  or  hillmen  did  not  cut 
us  to  pieces.  We  straggled  about,  and  did  everything  wrong  from 
a  military  point  of  view.  However,  our  enemy  was  fighting  us 
vaka  Viti  or  according  to  native  ideas,  and  that  was  our  salvation. 
We  were  not  acquainted  with  their  game,  but  on  this  occasion  we 
certainly  played  it  according  to  the  rules.  We  were  on  high  ground, 
with  the  village  we  were  about  to  attack  below  us,  and  were  waiting 
for  our  stragglers  to  come  up  before  we  rushed  it.  In  the  rara  or 
public  square  of  the  village  were  gathered  the  warriors  of  the  place, 
and  they  were  doing  the  vondivondi  prior  to  going  into  action.  They 
were  quite  at  our  mercy  then,  and  a  well-directed  volley  would  have 
wiped  them  all  out,  but  fortunately  for  some  reason  or  other  it  was 
not  delivered.  I  think  just  at  that  time  we  were  too  exhausted  with 
the  severity  of  our  march  over  the  steep  hills,  and  were  taking  a  brief 
rest  in  which  to  regain  our  wind.  It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  for¬ 
gotten.  A  rushing  stream  flowed  between  us  and  the  enemy,  and  on 
a  little  plateau  above  it  they  were  gathered  together  in  full  war 
paint,  squatted  down  and  beating  the  ground  with  bamboo  drums 
which  emitted  a  hollow  booming  sound. 

Presently  a  few  men  detached  themselves  from  this  body  and  ran 
towards  us  in  a  series  of  zigzags,  fluttering  pennons  of  white  native 
cloth  and  shouting  out  abuse  and  defiance.  This  roused  us,  and  we 
were  getting  ready  to  fire  when  the  head  chief  of  the  coast  men,  our 
native  auxiliaries,  rushed  up  to  our  General  and  begged  that  we 
should  not  shoot,  saying  that  those  approaching  had  come  merely  to 
mbolimboli  or  challenge  us  to  fight,  and  that  it  was  not  the  custom  of 
the  country  to  molest  such  messengers.  So  we  held  our  hands  and 
listened  to  their  proclamations.  We  were  told  that  we  had  come  to 


IOO 


Conscience 


the  wrong  place  (and  so  we  had),  and  that  the  murderers  of  the 
vavalangi  (white  men)  did  not  belong  to  them,  that  as  it  was  raining 
hard,  was  cold  and  nightfall  nigh,  they  would  receive  us  hospitably, 
and  on  the  morn  we  could  depart  in  peace.  If  not,  well  then  they 
had  plenty  of  firewood  ready,  the  ovens  were  hot  and  they  would  kill 
and  eat  us  all.  Our  reply  was  to  cheer  and  charge,  whereupon  the 
enemy  fired  their  village,  so  that  at  any  rate  we  should  have  to  spend 
the  night  out  in  the  open  and  in  the  rain.  After  doing  that  they 
dispersed  in  all  directions.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  we  did  not  kill  any 
of  them.  By  the  irony  of  fate  I  afterwards  became  the  Resident 
Commissioner  of  the  people  of  the  district  where  this  village  was. 
My  native  colleague,  who  used  to  sit  on  the  bench  with  me  when  we 
held  the  quarter  sessions,  was  a  boy  on  the  other  side  at  the  time  of 
the  fight  and  we  often  fought  it  over  again.  The  remembrance  of  it 
has  tempted  me  into  becoming  garrulous,  but  I  was  led  into  it  by  a 
desire  to  say  something  about  the  incantation  to  induce  a  state  of 
invulnerability. 

When  it  failed  the  priests  had  always  excellent  excuses.  To  render 
it  efficacious  the  young  men  must  be  even  as  those  with  David  when 
he  begged  the  hallowed  bread  from  Ahimelech  the  priest  (i  Samuel 
xxi.  1-6).  To  succeed  in  any  undertaking  for  the  time  being  both 
men  and  women  must  remain  virtuous.  Communal  undertakings 
are  proclaimed  by  the  village  crier  at  night  when  all  the  people  are 
supposed  to  be  at  home.  Mr.  Carew  told  me  he  once  heard  a  great 
fishing  expedition  so  given  out,  to  be  undertaken  by  the  people  of 
the  place,  men,  women  and  children.  It  was  greeted  by  roars  of 
laughter,  and  when  he  asked  the  reason  he  was  told  of  the  clever 
double-entendre  by  which  the  crier  had  intimated  that  all  should  be 
as  David’s  young  men.  It  is,  however,  unprintable  and  cannot  be 
given  here. 

Old  Nandurutamata,  the  “  man  post,”  was  a  great  relater  of  legends 
and  native  tales.  He  told  me  one  which  he  said  accounted  for  the 
relationship  between  the  Noikoro  and  Vatusila  tribes.  The  kalou  vu, 
or  original  ancestor  of  the  former,  was  mentioned  in  the  chapter  on 
the  Polynesian  adventurers  as  having  told  the  Noikoro  people,  who 
adopted  him,  that  he  had  arrived  at  Viti  riding  on  a  shark’s  back. 
The  Vatusila  were  the  slayers  of  Mr.  Baker,  and  their  first  ancestor, 
too,  was  a  very  light-skinned  Polynesian. 

Nandurutamata  in  recounting  this  legend  was  endeavouring  to 
instruct  me  in  the  genealogies  of  the  two  tribes  and  their  inter¬ 
marriages.  I  thought,  though,  that  I  detected  in  it  the  moral  at 
the  head  of  this  chapter,  “  Be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out.” 


Conscience 


IOI 


Native  storytellers  are  usually  prolix,  and  given  to  repetition. 
They  mimic  the  different  characters,  and  employ  falsetto  for  the 
female  parts.  It  makes  their  tales  very  long,  but  to  curtail  them  causes 
a  loss  of  idiom,  and  spoils  the  genius  of  the  language.  Presuming, 
therefore,  on  the  good  nature  of  my  readers  I  venture  to  give 
Nandurutamata’s  legend  as  he  told  it  to  me.  It  is  called 

TUVOU  OF  NANG-ATANG-ATA. 

Ung-oneva  (the  Noikoro  hero)  had  besides  sons,  two  daughters  by 
means  of  whom  the  Noikoro  and  Vatusila  tribes  became  related.  The 
elder  was  called  Tuvou  of  Nang-atang-ata  (her  father’s  village)  and 
the  younger  Lewatini.  One  day  the  elder  came  into  her  father’s 
presence  and  said,  “  Oh !  father,  I  am  going  to  Tombayaweni,  the 
Lord  of  Vandranasing-a  and  chief  of  the  Vatusila,  to  be  his  wife.” 

The  father  replied,  “  Very  good,  my  child,  but  remember  that 
a  wicked  man,  a  betrayer  of  damsels,  lives  on  the  road.” 

Tuvou  dressed  herself  in  black  masi,  and,  armed  with  a  club, 
started  for  Vandranasing-a.  She  passed  by  Talatalavula,  climbed 
the  hill  of  Malua  and  came  to  Numbutautau,  the  stronghold  of 
Tuitharatharasala,  the  betrayer  of  damsels,  who  dwelt  on  a  rock 
there.  He  said,  “  Come  into  the  house  and  spend  the  night  and  I 
will  send  the  old  woman  here  to  dig  food  for  us.” 

Tuvou  refused  at  first,  but  being  pressed  consented  to  remain. 
The  old  woman  brought  food  from  the  gardens,  Tuitharatharasala 
prepared  a  pig,  and  when  all  was  ready  they  feasted  and  afterwards 
retired  to  rest.  When  Tuvou’s  respiration  became  long  and  drawn, 
Tuitharatharasala,  to  find  out  whether  she  really  was  asleep,  jumped 
out  of  the  house  and  yelled  out,  “  Oi,  Oi,  Yalatina  is  in  flames,  the 
people  are  quarrelling  amongst  themselves.”  The  girl  heard  him  and 
told  him  to  hurry  over  there  and  try  to  save  some  of  the  black  masi, 
the  staple  manufacture  of  the  place.  Then  he  went  inside,  and 
presently  when  Tuvou’s  breathing  became  long-drawn  again  he 
jumped  outside  and  shouted  out,  “  Mong-ondro  is  on  fire,  and  they 
are  killing  each  other.”  Then  the  girl  told  him  to  hasten  thither  to 
see  if  he  could  save  anything.  So  he  returned  to  the  house,  and 
when  Tuvou  once  more  seemed  to  be  falling  asleep  he  yelled  out, 
“  The  kai  Ra  are  burning  each  other  out.”  This  time  there  was  no 
answer,  the  girl  was  fast  asleep,  and  Tuitharatharasala  went  and  lay 
down  beside  her.  When  she  woke  up  it  was  just  about  dawn,  and 
refusing  all  offers  of  food  she  started  off  on  her  journey. 

She  descended  to  Naveiyaraki,  and  from  thence  went  right  on  to 


102 


Conscience 


Vandranasing-a.  When  the  Vatusila  people  of  that  place  saw  her 
they  said,  “  Hullo,  Tuvou  of  Nang-atang-ata,  what  are  you  doing 
here  ?  ” 

And  she  said,  “  I  have  come  to  be  the  wife  of  Tombayaweni,  the 
Lord  of  Vandranasing-a.”  So  they  sent  a  messenger  to  Tombayaweni, 
who  came  down  with  his  big  club,  and  said  : 

“  Hullo,  Tuvou,  what  have  you  come  for  ?  ” 

To  which  she  replied,  “  To  be  your  wife.” 

He  answered,  “  Good,  lead  on,  ;  let  us  go  and  bathe.”  And  they 
went  to  the  pool  in  the  river  called  Riri-nai-ka,  which  is  near  to  the 
village  of  Namaururu.  When  they  got  there  Tombayaweni  said  to 
Tuvou,  “  You  go  in  first  and  pull  up  the  rock  that  is  on  the  bottom.” 

She  dived  down  and  tugged  and  tugged  away,  but  could  not  move 
it.  Over  and  over  again  she  went  down,  but  could  not  manage  the 
task.  So  Tombayaweni  said,  “  Come  out  of  that,  and  let  us  go  home.” 
And  they  returned  to  Vandranasing-a.  There  was  a  magic  red  coco¬ 
nut  tree  there,  which  he  told  her  to  climb.  She  went  right  up  to  the 
very  top  and  then  he  said,  “  Shake  the  nuts  and  find  out  if  there  is 
any  water  in  them.”  She  did  it  three  times,  and  he  asked  her  how 
they  were,  and  she  answered  that  they  were  nuts  fit  for  drinking,  and 
then  he  ordered  her  to  count  them  and  she  did  so  like  this  : 

“  One,  one,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Two,  two,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Three,  three,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Four,  four,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Five,  five,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Six,  six,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Seven,  seven,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Eight,  eight,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Nine,  nine,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

And  the  tenth  is  Tui  Tharatharasala,  the  sweeper  of 
the  way.” 

So  Tombayaweni  said,  “  Come  down,”  and  she  did  so,  and  he 
said,  “  You  have  sinned  on  the  road  and  your  virtue  has  departed, 
therefore  you  could  not  lift  the  big  stone  at  Riri-nai-ka,  and  when 
you  counted  the  nuts  you  had  to  mention  the  name  of  your  lover.” 
Then  Tombayaweni  slew  her  with  Ndrausa,  his  renowned  club, 
fashioned  out  of  an  uprooted  sapling. 

Thus  perished  Tuvou,  and  the  news  travelled  home  to  her  father 
and  kinsfolk.  When  her  younger  sister  Lewatini  heard  of  it  she  went 
to  her  sire  and  said  : 

“  Oh,  my  chief  and  father,  be  of  a  good  mind  and  let  me  go  and  be 


Conscience 


103 

the  wife  of  Tombayaweni  of  Vandranasing-a.  My  sister  was  only 
slain  because  she  sinned  and  parted  with  her  virtue  on  the  road  : 
I  beg  that  you  let  me  go,  and  let  me  replace  her.” 

He  gave  his  permission  and  she  departed. 

Like  her  sister  when  she  got  as  far  as  Numbutautau  she  encountered 
the  licentious  Tuitharatharasala  (who  once  more  employed  the  same 
wiles,  which  the  narrator  here  gives  in  much  longer  detail,  as  the 
betrayer  did  not  succeed  in  lulling  the  watchful  Lewatini  to  sleep, 
and  he  had  to  go  on  with  his  devices  until  morning  broke.  Omitted 
here  for  the  sake  of  brevity.) 

Then  the  birds  twittered  in  the  trees,  dawn  came,  and  the  evil 
Tuitharatharasala  knew  that  he  had  been  baulked.  He  raved  and 
fumed  but  Lewatini  only  laughed  at  him  and  asked  for  some  breakfast. 
He  refused  to  give  her  any,  but  said  that  she  could  go  and  look  for 
some  herself.  She  said,  “  What  are  you  angry  about  ?  If  you  chose 
to  sit  up  chattering  like  a  madman  all  night  instead  of  sleeping  like 
an  ordinary  person,  it  is  your  own  fault.”  So  she  ate  her  breakfast, 
went  on  her  way  and  arrived  safely  at  Vandranasing-a. 

There  the  people  questioned  her  as  they  had  her  sister,  Tuvou, 
and  Tombayaweni  came  down  again  with  the  big  club  Ndrausa. 
He  took  her  to  bathe  at  the  same  pool,  and  told  her  to  dive  into  it 
and  fetch  up  the  big  stone  at  the  bottom.  In  she  went  and  brought 
it  up  the  very  first  time,  and  there  it  is  to  this  day  as  a  witness  of  the 
truth  of  this  history,  and  anyone  can  go  and  see  it.  {Note.—  It  is 
about  the  size  of  a  motor-bus,  but  then  Lewatini  was  of  divine 
origin.)  Then  they  returned  to  the  village  and  Tombayaweni  told 
her  to  climb  the  magic  coco-nut  and  count  the  cluster  of  nuts  at  the 
top  ;  and  this  is  how  she  did  it  : 

“  One,  one,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Two,  two,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Three,  three,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Four,  four,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Five,  five,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Six,  six,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Seven,  seven,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Eight,  eight,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

Nine,  nine,  fruit  of  the  Red  Coco-nut, 

And  the  tenth  is  Tombayaweni  ! ! !  ” 

Then  she  came  down  and  went  home  with  Tombayaweni,  and 
after  a  while  she  bore  him  a  son,  whose  name  was  Saukiyata.  When 
he  had  grown  up  he  took  to  wife  Lewayanitu,  a  Koro  woman,  by 


104  Conscience 

whom  he  had  a  son,  Roko  Tui  Vuna.  He  married  Lewaivavu,  they 
had  two  sons ;  the  elder  was  Kulunandakai  and  the  second  Kataka- 
taimoso.  Kulunandaki  took  for  wife  a  woman  of  Naroyaso,  whose 
name  was  Kurumundu,  and  by  her  he  had  two  sons,  Navindulu  and 
Katakataimoso,  and  Katakataimoso  is  to-day  Buli  of  Vatusila. 

Thus,  Sir,  concluded  old  Nandurutamata,  is  it  that  Noikoro  and 
Vatusila  are  branches  of  the  same  tree. 


Photo  by  Sir  John  Thurston. 


CHAPTER  X 


Everyday  Totemism 

THIS  is  not  a  scientific  disquisition  on  totemism,  but  just 
a  simple  endeavour  to  show  how  it  figures  in  everyday 
life  amongst  the  hill  people  of  Viti  Levu.  It  is,  too, 
another  link  in  the  chain  of  evidence  connecting  the 
light-coloured  Polynesians  with  the  original  Melanesian  population, 
who  adopted  the  new-comers  and  made  them  their  ancestral  gods. 

According  to  tradition  Tunakauvandra,  i.e.  the  “  Stander  of  the 
Kauvandra,”  otherwise  the  great  Ndeng-ei,  sent  forth  his  followers 
to  each  of  the  leading  tribes  of  Viti  Levu  with  orders  to  increase  and 
multiply.  It  has  already  been  set  forth  how  they  went  to  Noikoro, 
Noemalu,  Vatusila,  Mavua,  Mbeimana  and  to  many  other  chief 
places.  Each  took  with  them  their  different  totems  :  animal,  floral 
and  vegetable,  which  became  the  cognizances  and  badges  of  the 
people  to  whom  they  joined  themselves. 

The  legend  which  recounts  this  dispersal  distinctly  avers  that  the 
common  people  were  already  on  the  spot,  and  were  sought  for 
afterwards  by  Ndeng-ei’s  heroes.  In  the  history  of  Nandrau,  one  of 
the  most  renowned  tribes  of  the  interior,  a  narrative  is  given  of  the 
wanderings  of  Tui  Talandrau,  the  first  known  holder  of  the  chief¬ 
taincy.  His  departure  from  the  Kauvandra  is  mentioned,  and  the 
route  he  took  until  he  arrived  amongst  those  who  adopted  him.  His 
track  is  shown  in  the  map  which  depicts  the  various  journeys  of  these 
followers  of  Ndeng-ei.  Wherever  Tui  Talandrau  rested  on  his  way, 
and  was  questioned  as  to  where  he  was  going,  he  always  replied  that 
he  was  seeking  his  people  who  had  preceded  him.  Time  and  the  lack 
of  written  records  have  obscured  these  faraway  events,  and  only  the 
oral  testimony  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation  is  avail¬ 
able.  The  constant  assertion,  that  the  common  people  arrived  before 
the  chiefs,  tends  very  much  to  point  out  that  when  these  Polynesian 
adventurers  came  upon  the  scene  they  found  the  Melanesians,  to 
whom  they  appeared  as  gods,  already  in  possession  of  the  countryside. 
It  has  already  been  mentioned  in  a  previous  chapter  how  the  original 

105 


io6  Everyday  Totemism 

ancestors  of  the  chiefly  families  could  transform  themselves  into  their 
animal  totems,  and  resume  their  human  shape  when  they  desired  so 
to  do.  Therefore  members  of  tribes  must  not  eat  the  animal  whose 
form  their  ancestral  god  had  been  used  to  assume.  That  would  be 
tantamount  to  eating  one’s  own  relations  and  would  be  followed  by 
dire  retribution,  such  as  befell  Ro  Vuthango,the  Vunivalu  of  Noemalu, 
who  told  Mr.  Carew  that  all  his  teeth  had  fallen  out  because  he  had 
eaten  one  of  his  brothers  for  violating  his  family  honour.  Fruit  and 
vegetable  totems  may  be  partaken  of,  but  not  the  flesh  of  the  animal 
symbol  of  the  tribe. 

In  all  savage  customs  there  seem  to  be  many  discrepancies  and 
anomalies.  A  clan  of  the  Vuanangumu,  a  large  and  important  tribe, 
with  many  off-shoots  residing  in  the  very  centre  of  the  Viti  Levu  hill 
country,  has  for  its  totem  one  of  the  numerous  species  of  crayfish  or 
prawns  which  abound  in  the  mountain  streams.  These  they  may  eat, 
if  they  do  not  peel  the  skins  off.  They  also  provide  them  as  food  for 
visitors,  whom  the  women  closely  watch.  If  the  latter  proceed  to 
peel  and  eat  the  prawns  the  women  beat  their  guests  savagely,  even 
branding  them  with  burning  fire-sticks.  This  has  to  be  taken  good- 
naturedly,  but  the  men  in  retaliation  may  catch  the  girls  and  hug  and 
kiss  them.  There  is  something  similar  to  this  in  the  customs  that  used 
to  be  attendant  on  turtle  fishing  when  the  men  returning  from  it 
were  attacked  and  severely  handled  by  the  women.  There  the  native 
chronicler  remarks,  “  It  was  not  a  matter  to  create  anger,  but  simply 
an  opportunity  for  rough  flirtations.” 

Old  Fijian  life  was  very  much  akin  to  the  games  played  by  our  own 
children  which  entail  forfeits  redeemable  by  strange  penalties.  Men 
were  not  allowed  to  mention  in  presence  of  women  of  another  tribe 
the  latter’s  totems  under  pain  of  suffering  something  at  their 
hands.  We  once  had  a  young  Bauan,  a  corporal  in  the  police  at  the 
Tholo  East  Government  Station.  The  Provincial  Court  or  quarter 
sessions  was  being  held  and  there  was  a  great  concourse  in  attendance. 
In  one  of  the  houses  yangona  or  kava  had  been  brewed,  of  which  the 
corporal  had  a  cup.  After  drinking  it  he  gave,  according  to  the  cus¬ 
tom  of  the  country,  his  toast.  That  always  comes  afterwards  in  Fiji, 
instead  of  before  as  with  us.  It  is  always  a  wish  for  something  that 
you  desire.  In  this  instance  it  was  a  particular  sort  of  plantain  that  the 
corporal  thought  he  fancied  just  then.  It  happened  to  be  the  vege¬ 
table  totem  of  the  Noemalu,  a  young  girl  of  which  was  sitting  near. 
She  had  a  short  butcher’s  knife  in  her  hand,  an  implement  much 
affected  for  weeding  and  clearing  purposes.  She  instinctively  hit 
out  and  inflicted  a  slight  flesh  wound,  The  lordly  Bauan,  a  scion  of 


Everyday  Totemism  107 

the  royal  tribe,  was  much  enraged  that  a  despised  Tholo  or  hill  girl 
had  tapped  some  of  his  aristocratic  blood,  and  promptly  went  to  the 
native  magistrate  and  filed  an  information  of  assault  and  battery. 
In  due  time  it  came  up  before  the  Provincial  Court,  otherwise  myself 
sitting  with  my  Fijian  colleague.  The  corporal  said  a  good  deal  about 
the  quantity  of  his  blood  which  had  been  spilled  and  the  heinousness 
of  the  offence.  We,  however,  dismissed  the  case,  as  there  had  been 
no  felonious  intent ;  the  injury  was  but  a  mere  scratch  and  inflicted 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment  in  pursuance  of  an  ancient  custom. 

You  must  not  eat  your  own  totem,  but  there  is  no  restriction 
upon  furnishing  your  friends  with  it  as  an  article  of  diet,  with  the 
understanding  that  they  take  it  at  their  own  risk,  subject  to  certain 
pains  and  penalties  such  as  have  already  been  mentioned  in  regard 
to  eating  the  prawn  totem  of  the  Vuanangumu.  Generally  when 
visitors  were  entertained  who  were  eaters  of  their  hosts’  totems, 
temporary  huts  were  erected  for  them  just  outside  their  friends’ 
village.  Upon  their  departure  these  dwellings  and  everything  that 
had  been  used  by  way  of  drinking  vessels,  cooking  utensils,  etc.,  were 
burnt  and  the  place  subjected  to  “  cleansing  fires.”  A  great  friend 
of  mine  was  Saimone  Ung-onetha  (Simon  Badboy),  the  Mbuli  of  the 
Nang-one-ni-tholo  (the  Children  of  the  Hills).  The  totem  of  that 
tribe  is  the  large  freshwater  eel  which  abounds  in  the  Wainimala, 
upon  which  river  their  villages  are.  Saimone  was  a  lay  preacher  of  the 
Wesleyans  and  a  most  intelligent  and  useful  man,  who  gave  me  much 
information  on  old  usages.  He  told  me  that  his  people  were  gradually 
beginning  to  lose  the  ancient  superstition  and  that  the  younger 
generation  no  longer  refrained  from  eating  eels.  But  it  was  the 
cause  of  great  trepidation  to  the  elders  of  the  tribe  in  whom  the  belief 
was  ingrained.  He  is  my  authority  for  saying  that  temporary 
habitations  were  put  up  for  visitors,  which  were  afterwards  destroyed. 
The  Wainimala  is  noted  for  its  fat  eels,  which  are  a  great  source  of 
attraction  to  the  friends  of  the  tribe. 

According  to  tradition  an  old  and  hoary  eel,  the  totem  of  this 
tribe,  the  Children  of  the  Hills,  lived  in  a  deep  pool  of  the  Wainimala, 
close  to  Nakorosuli,  their  chief  village.  Simon  said  that  he  was 
occasionally  seen  swimming  solemnly  round  his  sacred  precincts, 
and  that  if  I  were  patient  and  watched  long  enough  I  might  perhaps 
be  able  to  see  him.  I  had  not  time  for  the  vigil,  and  I  doubt  very 
much  if  I  should  have  discerned  the  venerable  shrine  of  the  divine 
progenitor  of  my  friends.  I  lacked  the  eye  of  faith,  and  probably  the 
dweller  in  the  pool  had  not  a  material  body,  and  what  was  seen  there 
was  only  his  astral  form.  The  Yalatina  people,  a  Tholo  North  clan, 


108  Everyday  Totemism 

who  live  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Mba  River,  close  to  Nandarivatu, 
where  I  resided,  had  also  an  eel  totem.  His  haunt  was  a  rocky  pool 
in  the  rugged  and  inaccessible  Savatu  source  of  the  Mba.  His 
appearance  in  the  depth  which  he  occupied  presaged  the  death  of 
some  chief  of  the  tribe.  I  was  told,  though,  that  it  would  be  of  no 
use  for  me  to  go  and  watch  the  pool  as  the  eel  was  not  a  real  one,  but 
just  a  ghost  and  only  visible  to  the  members  of  his  family. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  that  when  sacrifices  are  made  to  the 
gods,  they  being  spirits  only  consume  the  intangible  essences  of  the 
offerings,  leaving  the  material  and  grosser  parts  for  the  delectation 
of  their  worshippers.  This  is  rather  a  comfortable  sort  of  doctrine, 
as  you  can  give  to  the  gods  that  which  is  pleasing  to  them  and  provide 
yourself  at  the  same  time  with  the  finest  of  feasts.  It  helps,  too,  to 
show  that  there  exists  in  the  Fijian  mind  a  sharp  demarcation  between 
things  spiritual  and  things  corporeal.  I  came  across  a  clear  demonstra¬ 
tion  of  this  in  an  example,  which  also  hinged  closely  on  totemism. 
The  people  of  Rewasau,  one  of  the  Mboumbutho  villages,  were 
losing  a  lot  of  their  number  through  some  mysterious  epidemic,  and 
as  usual  they  came  to  me  about  it.  They  said  that  a  neighbouring 
clan,  the  Naiova,  whose  totem  was  a  malignant  little  black  snake 
called  Mbolo,  had  the  power  of  the  evil  eye  and  had  overlooked  them. 
Consequently  their  intestines  were  full  of  these  little  black  snakes 
which  were  eating  them  up  and  causing  death.  I  made  a  searching 
inquiry  as  to  the  symptoms,  etc.,  of  which  I  made  copious  notes. 
Seeing  this  the  spokesman  said  to  me,  “  And  now,  Sir,  having  asked 
all  these  questions,  when  the  next  death  occurs  you  will  send,  I 
suppose,  the  District  Medical  Officer  to  cut  the  corpse  up  and  look 
for  the  snakes.  But  he  won’t  find  any  ;  they  are  not  real  snakes, 
only  spiritual  ones  !  ” 

It  is  rather  a  digression,  but  I  may  as  well  mention  that  I  got  at 
the  root  of  the  trouble  without  having  recourse  to  the  dissecting 
knife.  I  found  that  a  communal  pigsty  had  been  built  much  too  close 
to  the  spring  which  supplied  the  village  with  water.  I  had  the  swine 
removed  and  the  sickness  disappeared.  I  used  to  liken  myself  to 
Mr.  Falcon,  the  first  lieutenant  of  Peter  Simple’s  first  ship.  “  He 
always  had  a  remedy  for  everything,  and  the  ship’s  company  used 
to  call  him  ‘  Remedy  Jack.’  ”  I,  too,  had  always  to  have  a  remedy 
of  some  sort  or  other  up  my  sleeve. 

Neglect  of  totem  usages  has  been  made  the  excuse  for  crime  and 
wrongdoing.  Opposite  the  village  of  Nasongo  is  a  tall  cliff  of  grey 
basalt,  which  rising  to  a  height  of  some  three  hundred  feet  overlooks 
it.  A  man  called  Kasere,  employed  in  carrying  the  overland  mail 


Everyday  Totemism  109 

across  Viti  Levu,  attempted  to  commit  suicide  by  throwing  himself 
from  this  precipice.  He  was  caught  by  the  boughs  of  the  trees  which 
fringe  its  base  and  was  picked  up  there  insensible  by  the  people  of 
Nasongo.  None  of  his  bones  was  broken,  and  after  an  illness  of  some 
three  months  he  recovered  completely.  He  was  a  married  man,  but 
had  had  a  love  affair  with  another  girl,  a  single  woman.  They 
decided  to  commit  suicide  together,  and  selected  strangling  as  the 
method.  The  girl  effected  her  purpose,  but  Kasere  said  his  life  was 
too  strong  within  him  and  he  could  not  kill  himself  in  that  way.  To 
carry  out  the  compact  honourably  he  had  leaped  from  the  cliff 
opposite  Nasongo,  but  had  been  saved  by  the  vegetation.  I  knew 
that  he  had  a  family  of  boys,  and  that  he  was  therefore  safe  from  the 
wrath  of  the  ancestral  spirits,  and  I  asked  him  why  he  had  taken  up 
with  another  woman  seeing  that  he  was  blessed  with  a  fruitful  wife. 
He  replied  in  these  terms  :  “  Sir,  you  think  me  happy  in  that  I  have 
provided  posterity,  but  what  chance  have  I  to  rear  those  children  ? 
They  are  constantly  ill.  I  made  a  mistake  in  marrying  a  woman  of  a 
wrong  totem.  Her  tribal  animal  is  the  snake.  Now  I  and  all  my 
people  eat  serpents,  our  sacred  symbol  being  the  wild  duck.  Our 
children  partake  of  their  mother’s  nature,  and  when  they  eat  of  the 
same  food  as  I  do,  or  that  which  has  been  cooked  in  the  same  pots 
in  which  snakes  have  been  boiled,  they  suffer  from  swollen  faces, 
necks  and  glands.  I  therefore  determined  to  take  up  with  another 
woman  who  had  not  a  like  disability,  but  lo  !  I  am  enmeshed  in  the 
net  of  the  law.” 

We  know  that  the  Scottish  highland  clans  have  each  their  floral 
badges  which  they  wear  in  their  bonnets.  The  Camerons  display 
the  oak,  the  Campbells  of  Argyll  the  wild  myrtle,  the  Macgregors 
the  pine  tree,  etc.  etc.  The  Wainimala  clan  (the  Children  of  the 
Hills),  which  has  the  eel  for  its  animal  totem,  has,  like  the  Campbells, 
the  wild  myrtle  for  its  floral  badge.  The  Viti  Levu  highlanders 
regard  these  distinctive  marks  differently  from  the  way  in  which  the 
Scotch  do.  They  do  not  sport  sprigs  or  flowers  of  the  plant  as 
ornaments,  but  consider  it  as  the  tree  emblematic  of  the  life  of  the 
tribe,  of  which  the  individual  members  are  the  branches.  The 
Nasongo  people  have  the  tnoli  or  wild  shaddock  for  their  tribal  tree, 
and  upon  the  birth  of  male  children  the  ancestral  gods  were  invoked 
that  they  might  grow  up  true  branches  of  the  parent  stem.  The 
Noemalu,  a  most  aristocratic  clan,  whose  history  I  know  more  about 
than  of  the  other  hill  communities,  have  the  vibua  (?  Fagraea  ber- 
teriana)  as  their  distinctive  plant.  It  is  a  beautiful  shrub  with  ivory- 
tinted  flowers  which  are  very  fragrant,  and  their  appearance  and 


I  10 


Everyday  Totemism 

perfume  very  much  resemble  the  gardenia.  The  leaves  are  thick 
and  glossy,  and  when  a  child  is  born  the  lintels  and  doorposts  of  the 
house  where  it  occurs  are  decorated  with  them,  and  also  with  the 
blooms,  should  they  happen  to  be  in  season.  It  is  one  of  the  signs  of 
spring,  which  in  Tholo  is  called  the  vula-i-mbua ,  or  the  moon  when 
the  mbua  comes  into  flower. 

Before  the  spread  of  Christianity  the  appearance  of  the  animate 
totem  of  a  tribe  was  greeted  by  its  members  with  the  tama,  the 
sacred  shout  of  acclamation  accorded  to  the  ancestral  god  and  to  the 
head  chief,  his  earthly  shrine.  Several  of  the  hill  clans  have  a  species 
of  osprey  for  their  badge,  which  make  their  nests  on  high  inaccessible 
crags  and  peaks.  The  native  name  for  this  bird  is,  when  translated 
literally,  “  rock-duck.”  I  have  often  seen  them  flying,  but  never 
came  across  a  captive  of  the  species,  nor  have  I  been  very  close  to 
them.  According  to  the  people  themselves  the  bird  is  short-set  and 
squat,  with  legs  in  the  same  proportion  to  the  body  as  a  duck’s,  and 
with  broad  outspreading  talons.  He  derives  his  name  from  frequent¬ 
ing  and  making  his  home  on  the  rocky  crags  and  ledges.  He  occasion¬ 
ally  swoops  down  and  carries  off  chickens,  but  the  natives  say  that  if 
he  makes  a  false  strike  and  comes  down  to  the  ground  he  does  not 
attempt  to  rise  again.  They  say  that  he  then  dies  of  a  broken  heart, 
his  pride  being  so  wounded  at  his  lack  of  skill.  It  may  be,  that  with 
such  short  legs  in  proportion  to  his  body,  he  cannot  rise  from  the 
earth,  but  has  to  have  some  elevated  spot  as  a  jumping-off  place.  An 
ornithologist  could  of  course  solve  this.  I  only  give  the  folklore  tale 
of  the  bird. 

On  the  Island  of  Ovalau,  fifteen  miles  due  east  from  Viti  Levu,  is 
Levuka,  once  the  chief  port  of  Fiji.  Between  it  and  the  mainland  is 
a  deep  channel  across  which  in  modern  times  has  been  laid  a  cable 
to  keep  the  place  in  touch  with  Suva,  the  present  capital.  By  sea 
and  by  land  Levuka  is  quite  fifty  miles  from  the  head  waters  of  the 
Wainimala,  but  there  is  an  allegory  which  shows  that  at  a  remote 
time,  about  that  of  the  arrival  of  Ndeng-ei,  there  was  communication 
between  the  two  places.  In  later  times  the  universal  state  of  warfare 
cut  off  all  intercourse,  but  the  memory  of  the  former  state  of  affairs 
is  recorded  in  the  allegory  just  alluded  to.  It  has  a  moral,  too,  which 
points  out  that  murder  and  ingratitude  do  not  go  unpunished,  and  is 
set  forth  in  the  following  story : 


Everyday  Totemism 


in 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  ANCESTRAL  GODS  OF  NAMBORO, 
A  WAINIMALA  CLAN 

My  Lord  the  Black  Lizard  and  My  Lord  the  Hairy  Lizard,  the 
ancestral  spirits  of  the  Namboro  tribe,  were  brothers,  who  in  olden 
times  dwelt  on  their  own  land  at  Siliandrau  on  the  VVainimala, 
where  the  little  stream  Wainiyangu  joins  it. 

One  day  they  amused  themselves  by  making  canoes  out  of  dalo 
stalks,  and  when  the  river  became  swollen  with  the  rains  they  launched 
them.  The  flood  carried  off  that  of  Hairy  Lizard,  and  he  drifted 
away,  leaving  his  brother  Black  Lizard  behind. 

Hairy  Lizard  was  the  younger  brother,  and  he  was  washed  away 
down  the  river  past  its  mouth  at  the  sea  and  at  last  he  fetched  up  at 
Levuka  on  the  Island  of  Ovalau.  There  he  met  My  Lord  the  Osprey, 
the  god  of  the  place.  Hairy  Lizard  made  obeisance  to  him,  saying, 
“  Noble  grandfather,  spare  my  life.” 

The  Osprey  replied,  “  Your  life  is  granted  ;  am  I  not  your  grand¬ 
father  !  I  willed  that  you  should  drift  to  these  shores  that  we  might 
dwell  together.” 

So  they  lived  together,  and  after  six  days  a  great  feast  was  made  at 
which  Hairy  Lizard  proffered  this  prayer,  “  Sir  Osprey,  be  gracious 
and  allow  me  to  return  to  the  Wainimala  and  to  my  brother.” 

His  host  replied,  “  It  is  far  to  your  home,  but  I  will  carry  you 
there.  Climb  on  to  my  back  and  we  will  start  off  at  once.”  Away 
he  flew,  and  entering  the  great  Rewa  River  at  its  month  he  followed 
its  course  inland.  By  the  sweep  of  his  wings  he  cleft  the  hills  on 
either  side,  creating  those  large  alluvial  flats  which  skirt  the  river’s 
banks.  Thus  were  made  those  broad  and  noble  lands  at  Naitasiri. 
When  they  got  there,  said  the  Osprey,  “  Grandson,  do  you  know 
where  you  are  ?  ” 

“  Oh  !  ”  replied  Hairy  Lizard,  “  my  home  is  yet  far  away.” 

On  they  flew  up  the  river,  the  cleaving  of  the  wings  making  flat 
land  on  either  bank.  Where  the  wings  did  not  reach  the  hills  re¬ 
mained.  Then  they  came  to  where  the  Wainimala  and  the  Wailoa 
meet  at  Undu,  and  again  said  the  Osprey,  “  Grandson,  do  you  know 
where  you  are  ?  ” 

Then  answered  Hairy  Lizard,  “  We  are  quite  near  now,  grand¬ 
father.”  Then  they  saw  Siliandrau,  where  dwelt  Black  Lizard,  the 
other  brother.  Then  they  rested  for  seven  days. 

After  which  the  elder  brother,  Black  Lizard,  said,  “  Oh  !  little 
brother,  Hairy  Lizard,  let  us  kill  Sir  Osprey  and  eat  him.” 


ii  2  Everyday  Totemism 

But  the  younger  one  said,  “  No  !  he  spared  my  life  and  brought 
me  home.  If  you  hurt  him  I  can  no  longer  live  with  you.” 

But  the  elder  persisted  and  was  importunate.  When  night  fell  and 
the  Osprey  went  to  sleep,  Black  Lizard  took  sinnet  plaited  from  the 
fibre  of  the  coco-nut  and  with  it  netted  up  the  doorways  of  the  house. 
Then  he  set  fire  to  it.  Sir  Osprey,  startled  from  sleep,  found  the 
place  burning  from  which  he  could  not  escape,  as  all  egress  was 
obstructed.  Then  said  he,  “  Grandsons,  what  is  this  ?  Spare  my 
life,  and  I  will  make  your  village  as  renowned  as  the  Dwelling  of  the 
Snake  (the  shrine  of  Ndeng-ei).  Yours,  too,  shall  be  the  land  up¬ 
wards  from  here  to  the  source  of  the  Wainimala,  and  from  its  founts 
shall  you  drink.” 

They  were  obdurate,  and  as  the  fire  grew  closer  the  Osprey  went 
on  :  “  Behold,  I  am  about  to  die  and  I  tell  you  this.  Let  me  live 
and  I  will  make  you  the  great  chiefs  of  the  Wainimala,  and  all  the 
people  of  it  subject  to  you.  If  you  refuse,  I  say  that  not  one  of  the 
tribe  of  Namboro  shall  in  future  be  a  chief,  and  you  shall  hereafter 
serve  strange  masters,  and  no  longer  shall  drink  from  the  founts  of 
the  Wainimala.  I  die  in  your  village,  and  you  have  not  done  to  me 
as  I  did  unto  you  when  I  succoured  you  in  your  sore  distress  at 
Levuka,  when  the  sea  cast  you  up.” 

So  died  My  Lord  the  Osprey.  Hairy  Lizard  left  his  brother,  Black 
Lizard,  and  ever  since  the  clan  of  Namboro  has  been  masterless  and 
landless.  It  was  invaded  and  conquered  by  others,  whom  it  had  to 
serve. 

Under  British  rule  the  people  of  Namboro  were  got  together  again 
and  placed  on  their  own  ancestral  lands.  When  I  first  knew  them 
they  were  living  in  a  pretty  little  village  called  Sawanikula,  towards 
the  head  of  the  Wainimala,  whose  clear  waters  flowing  over  its  pebbly 
bed  filled  the  air  with  music.  It  was  a  most  delightful  spot  em¬ 
bowered  in  a  grove  of  fruit  trees,  and  gay  with  scarlet  dracaenae  and 
many-hued  amaranths  and  crotons.  Their  land  is  fertile,  and  the 
streams  abound  with  fish,  prawns  and  eels,  and  one  would  think  that 
life  there  would  be  well  worth  living.  But  no  !  the  curse  still 
lingered  and  the  people  applied  to  me  for  leave  to  abandon  the  place. 
The  women  were  troubled  in  their  sleep  by  an  evil  spirit,  a  tevoro , 
and  they  refused  to  remain  there.  Man  is  generally  supposed  to  be 
the  lord  of  creation  in  native  life,  but  I  found  that  the  other  sex 
had  to  be  reckoned  with  very  seriously,  and  as  in  this  instance  they 
had  quite  made  up  their  minds  about  it,  they  had  their  own  way, 
and  left  Sawanikula. 


CHAPTER  XI 


Vunindawa 

QUITE  a  detour  has  been  made  since  we  left  the  Resident 
Commissioner  at  Nandurulolo,  his  Rewa  residence.  It 
was  done  in  an  endeavour  to  give  some  sort  of  an  idea 
of  what  the  Tholo  or  hill  folk  were  like.  Thirty-six  long 
miles  up  stream  intervene  between  Nandurulolo  and  Nakorovatu, 
which,  in  the  days  being  written  about,  was  the  Government  Station 
of  the  Tholo  East  Province.  There  were  no  made  roads,  the  country¬ 
side  was  a  dense  mass  of  jungle,  and  the  river  was  the  highway.  To 
Viria,  eighteen  miles  further  up,  just  above  where  the  Wai-indira 
flows  into  the  Rewa,  the  stream  is  navigable  for  light  draft  steamers 
and  sailing  craft.  From  thence  fifteen  miles  further  on,  to  Taivou, 
at  the  junction  of  the  Wainimbuka  and  the  Wainimala,  the  journey 
was  usually  continued  in  boats,  or  preferably  in  takia  or  river  canoes. 
The  former  could  be  employed,  but  it  meant  much  heavy  labour  in 
haulage  over  the  rapids  and  shallows.  Deoka,  whither  the  boats  of 
H.M.S.  Challenger  penetrated,  is  about  two  miles  below  the  con¬ 
fluence  of  the  rivers  just  mentioned.  Nowadays  modern  science  has 
come  to  the  rescue,  and  very  light-draft  motor  boats  ply  daily  be¬ 
tween  Nandurulolo  and  Taivou,  in  which  the  voyage  can  be  made 
in  a  few  hours.  In  my  time  it  took  up  the  whole  day,  allowing  for 
the  midday  halt  to  rest  the  men  and  cook  their  food. 

Nakorovatu  by  river  is  three  miles  above  Taivou,  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  Wainimala.  Travellers  generally  landed  at  the  latter  place,  as 
there  was  a  good  road  on  to  Nakorovatu,  a  mile  shorter  than  the 
waterway,  and  by  using  it  the  increasing  strength  of  the  river’s 
current  could  be  avoided.  This  path  was  a  level,  grassy  causeway, 
with  hedges  of  gay-leaved  crotons  on  either  side,  which  had  been 
made  under  Mr.  Carew’s  directions.  After  the  long  cramped-up 
journey  on  the  canoe  it  was  pleasant  indeed  to  be  able  to  get  out 
and  stretch  one’s  legs. 

My  official  conveyance  was  a  long  outrigger  canoe  about  forty-five 
feet  in  length,  which  carried  a  crew  of  six  or  eight,  who  poled  her 

H  1 13 


Vunindawa 


114 

in  the  shallows,  as  is  done  in  punts  on  our  English  rivers,  and  used 
paddles  in  the  deep  reaches.  For  my  accommodation  there  was  a 
platform  amidships,  about  eight  feet  long  and  three  broad,  which  I 
had  to  share  with  my  baggage.  It  was  matted  and  covered  in  by  a 
small  thatched  house,  under  which  I  could  lie  down,  sleep  and  wile 
time  away  by  reading.  Whenever  we  felt  inclined  we  could  haul  up 
alongside  the  bank,  light  a  fire,  boil  water  for  tea  and  cook  food.  It 
was  hard  work  for  the  men  when  making  the  upward  journey  and 
made  them  very  weary.  Fijians  always  have  a  nickname  ready,  and 
my  canoe  was  called  the  Vuramothe ,  which  means  “  bringer  of  sleep,” 
as  the  men  averred  she  made  them  dog-tired.  The  life  of  the  official 
or  provincial  takia,  as  the  people  styled  her,  was  about  three  years. 
Whenever  a  new  one  was  commissioned  it  was  always  given  the  old 
sobriquet,  V uramothe.  It  was  a  sly  way  of  poking  fun  at  the  official 
superior,  and  of  bringing  to  his  notice  and  pity  the  sad  lot  of  his 
poor  hard-worked  canoe  men. 

It  was  in  June,  1884,  that  I  made  my  first  long  voyage  to  the 
Wainimala  for  duty  in  Tholo  East.  Sir  William  Des  Voeux,  the 
Governor,  was  away  in  Sydney,  and  Mr.  Thurston  (afterwards  Sir 
John  Thurston)  was  administering  the  Colony  in  his  stead.  The 
Acting  Colonial  Secretary  was  Dr.  Macgregor,  who  subsequently 
became  so  well  known  as  Sir  William  Macgregor,  and  who  was  at 
various  times  Governor  of  British  New  Guinea,  Lagos,  Newfound¬ 
land  and  finally  of  Queensland,  where  he  had  so  large  a  part  in  the 
founding  of  the  University.  It  was  to  him  that  I  owed  my  intro¬ 
duction  to  the  Colonial  Service.  I  had  been  a  coffee  planter,  and 
Mr.  Thurston  desired  that  the  hill  people  should  be  instructed  in 
the  cultivation  of  that  particular  crop,  in  furtherance  of  his  Native 
Taxation  Scheme.  He  therefore  approved  of  Dr.  Macgregor’s  nomi¬ 
nation  of  myself,  and  I  was  sent  to  Tholo  East  as  an  Inspector  of 
Native  Taxes.  I  had  previously  applied  to  Sir  William  Des  Vceux 
for  one  of  the  Stipendiary  Magistracies  of  the  Colony,  and  when  he 
returned  he  appointed  me  in  that  capacity  to  the  Province  of  Mbua, 
on  the  island  of  Vanua  Levu.  But  I  never  went,  as  Mr.  Carew  was 
good  enough  to  say  that  he  had  found  me  useful  in  Tholo  East,  and 
that  he  desired  somebody  with  magisterial  powers  to  assist  him  in 
the  administration  of  the  province.  In  October,  therefore,  I  was 
gazetted  Stipendiary  Magistrate  and  Assistant  to  the  Resident  Com¬ 
missioner  of  Tholo  East. 

Sir  William  Des  Voeux  left  us  shortly  afterwards  to  go  as  Governor 
to  Newfoundland,  and  afterwards  to  Hong  Kong.  There  is  a  very 
interesting  account  of  his  sojourn  in  Fiji  in  his  book,  My  Colonial 


Vunindawa  1 1 5 

Service.  It  was  during  his  time  that  King  George  visited  Fiji,  when 
he  and  his  brother  Prince  Edward  were  midshipmen  on  H.M.S. 
Bacchante.  Sir  William  was  always  very  good  and  kind  to  me,  and 
Lady  Des  Voeux’s  reign  at  Government  House  is  held  in  pleasant 
remembrance  by  all  old  colonists. 

Many  of  my  contemporaries,  who  were  young  members  of  the 
Fijian  Service  then,  have  since  greatly  distinguished  themselves  in 
many  parts  of  the  world  :  Sir  George  Le  Hunte,  who  was  until 
recently  Governor  of  Trinidad ;  Sir  Fielding  Clark,  our  Chief 
Justice,  who  finished  up  in  the  same  capacity  in  Jamaica  ;  Sir  Alfred 
Sharpe,  so  well  known  in  Central  and  East  Africa  ;  Sir  Wilfrid  Collet, 
now  Governor  of  British  Guiana,  and  Sir  William  Allardyce  in 
Tasmania  ;  Sir  Francis  Fuller,  until  recently  Chief  Commissioner  in 
Ashanti ;  Sir  Basil  Thomson,  the  Head  of  the  C.I.D.  at  Scotland 
Yard,  and  Sir  Edward  Wallington,  of  the  King’s  Household.  They 
all  of  them  graduated  in  Fiji,  and  the  colonists  recall  with  pride  that 
their  careers  started  in  our  pleasant  isles. 

Alfred  Marriott,  a  young  officer  of  the  Native  Department,  repre¬ 
sented  the  Resident  Commissioner  upon  my  arrival  in  Tholo  East. 
He  had  no  judicial  functions,  having  merely  to  receive  letters  and 
reports  from  the  different  districts,  and  keep  the  head  of  the  piovince 
au  courant  generally  in  what  was  going  on.  He  was  young,  gay  and 
irresponsible  then,  a  very  pleasant  companion  who  spent  most  of  his 
time  in  fishing  and  shooting.  That  was  before  the  days  of  the 
accursed  mongoose,  and  small  game  such  as  duck,  plover  and  pigeon 
were  plentiful.  Added  to  his  skill  as  a  sportsman  he  was  an  excellent 
cook,  and  the  very  best  clear  turtle  soup  I  ever  had  was  made  by 
him.  That  was  after  he  left  the  Wainimala  and  had  returned  to 
Suva  and  the  Native  Department.  It  was  a  Christmas  Day,  and,  in 
addition  to  the  other  parts  of  the  feast,  he  turned  out  a  most  ex¬ 
cellent  plum  pudding.  He  has  now  settled  down  into  a  landed 
country  gentleman  in  England  after  a  mission  to  Persia,  where  he 
had,  I  believe,  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  oil  negotiations. 

As  representative  of  the  Resident  Commissioner,  Marriott  occu¬ 
pied  the  official  quarters  at  Nakorovatu.  It  was  a  large  Mbure  01 
tribal  hall  on  the  edge  of  the  rara  or  village  green,  and  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  native  architecture.  As  mine  was  a  new  appointment, 
I  had  no  place  to  go  to  and  had  to  shift  for  myself.  Marriott  was 
good,  and  put  me  up  until  I  could  get  some  houses  built.  I  had  a 
delightfully  airy  letter  from  the  Colonial  Secretary  saying  that  a  new 
post  had  been  created  for  me  and  fixing  my  pay,  but  there  was  not 
a  word  as  to  how  I  was  to  be  lodged,  or  how  I  was  to  travel  about 


n6  Vunindawa 

the  very  extensive  distiict  which  had  been  assigned  to  me.  I  was 
just  shot  out  in  the  wilderness  to  make  my  own  way.  However,  I 
had  then  been  neaily  fourteen  years  in  the  Colony,  and  understood 
the  art  of  settling  down.  I  pitched  upon  a  delightful  little  plateau 
overlooking  the  Wainimala,  a  few  chains  above  Nakorovatu,  called 
Vunindawa,  which  subsequently  became  the  headquarters  of  the 
province  when  Marriott  returned  to  Suva  and  I  became  the  Stipen¬ 
diary  Magistrate  and  Assistant  to  the  Commissioner. 

Lord  Harcourt,  when  Colonial  Secretary  and  presiding  at  one  of 
the  Corona  Club  or  Crown  Colony  dinners,  dubbed  the  smaller  and 
more  impecunious  of  the  dependencies  as  his  Cinderellas.  Fiji  is  no 
longer  in  that  category,  but  at  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing  she 
was,  if  I  may  coin  a  word,  one  of  the  Cinderellaist  of  the  lot.  I  knew 
it  was  no  use  asking  for  money,  so  I  took  the  bull  by  the  horns  and 
constructed  my  compound  at  my  own  expense.  Fortunately,  it  did 
not  cost  much  to  build  Fijian  houses,  nevertheless  I  had  to  spend 
£50.  I  also  had  to  pay  my  canoe  men  out  of  my  own  pocket. 

One  of  these  was  Anaiyasa,  which  was  his  Biblical  or  baptismal 
name.  In  English  we  should  call  him  Ananias,  which  perhaps  might 
be  considered  undesirable,  but  it  is  quite  a  favourite  name  with 
Fijians,  probably  from  its  pleasant  and  liquid  sound.  Euphony  has 
a  good  deal  to  answer  for,  and  one  of  the  Wesleyan  ministers  told 
me  that  one  day  when  he  was  baptising  some  converts  a  girl  de¬ 
manded  that  she  should  be  called  Golgotha.  Those  were  the  early 
days  when  adults  after  conversion  presented  themselves  for  baptism 
and  chose  their  own  names.  The  missionary  said  that  he  had  quite 
a  long  argument  about  her  selection,  in  which  she  persisted,  as  she 
thought  it  sounded  nicely. 

Anaiyasa  attached  himself  to  me  for  the  rest  of  my  service.  I 
regret  to  say,  though,  that  a  considerable  portion  of  his  time  was 
spent  within  the  walls  of  the  Provincial  Jail.  In  our  simple  life  in 
the  hills  that  carried  no  stigma,  as  I  hope  presently  to  explain.  As 
he  himself  would  say,  veitalia ,  i.e.  never  mind,  or,  as  our  Tommies 
would  put  it,  sany-j ary -bang,  or  nimport.  He  was  much  given  to 
flirtations,  the  penalty  for  which  under  the  old  native  law  was  death, 
as  it  was  in  ancient  Japan  in  the  days  of  the  great  Pooh-bah  and 
Koko.  Anaiyasa  would  serve  his  sentence  cheerfully  and  go  home, 
then  should  any  great  function  approach,  such  as  a  visit  of  the 
Governor  or  a  tour  of  the  province  by  the  Commissioner,  he  would 
duly  turn  up  to  bear  a  hand.  He  made  most  excellent  curries  from 
the  ducks  and  pigeons  shot  en  route, and  was  always  smiling  and  willing. 
When  the  Commissioner  went  on  one  of  his  rounds  I  always  had  to 


Vunindawa 


117 

go  and  carry  on  the  court  and  magisterial  work  on  the  Rewa  at 
Nandurulolo.  On  such  occasions  Anaiyasa  would  attach  himself  to 
the  Commissioner’s  entourage,  and  would  help  himself  to  anything 
he  thought  might  be  useful  from  my  belongings.  Carew  generally 
travelled  very  roughly  without  any  regard  for  the  convenances,  but 
when  Anaiyasa  took  him  under  his  wing  he  found,  rather  to  his 
astonishment,  that  daily  his  boots  were  cleaned  and  polished.  Upon 
inquiring  as  to  how  it  was  done,  Anaiyasa  airily  replied,  “  When  I 
and  the  Stipendiary  Magistrate,  your  Honour’s  Assistant,  go  on 
circuit,  we  always  take  our  blacking  and  brushes  !  ”  He  was  a  bit 
over-zealous,  though.  Subsequently,  when  I  administered  both 
Tholo  North  and  Tholo  East,  with  my  residence  at  Nandarivatu, 
upon  my  visits  to  the  old  province  I  generally  found  Anaiyasa  wait¬ 
ing  for  me  with  many  little  matters  which  added  to  my  comfort. 
At  first  I  felt  grateful  until  the  local  Hindu  storekeeper  waited  upon 
me  with  a  long  bill  run  up  in  my  name,  and  I  found,  to  use  a  native 
proverb,  that  Anaiyasa  had  been  carrying  my  authority  upon  his 
shoulders.  It  was  no  use  getting  angry  :  it  was  done  with  a  good 
intention  and  to  make  things  easy  for  me,  and  Anaiyasa  was  always 
so  pleasant  and  plausible.  Before  I  left  Fiji  he  had  begun  to  age  a 
bit  and  his  hair  to  be  tinged  with  grey.  He  was  trying  to  leave  wild 
oats  alone  and  to  range  himself,  and  had  married  an  elderly  widow 
with  a  ready-made  family,  the  relict  of  the  Chief  Constable  of  his 
district.  I  have  a  photograph  of  him  with  Mr.  Carew  and  his  fox 
terrier,  which  was  the  Resident  Commissioner’s  inseparable  com¬ 
panion  and  the  most  important  member  of  his  household.  They  are 
all  sitting  on  a  takia  at  Naindirindiri,  the  head  of  canoe  navigation 
on  the  Wainimala.  It  is  from  a  photograph  taken  by  Sir  John 
Thurston  during  a  tour  through  the  hill  country.  Drawn  up  under 
the  bank  is  the  Vuramothe ,  with  Lady  Thuiston  and  the  private 
secretaries  on  board. 

Vunindawa,  where  I  pitched  my  camp,  is  a  most  lovely  and 
picturesque  spot.  It  takes  its  name  from  a  clump  of  ndazva  trees,  as 
big  as  large  elms,  on  the  edge  of  the  bank  overlooking  the  Wainimala. 
The  fruit  of  the  ndawa  ( Nephelium  pinnata )  is  something  like  our 
sweet  chestnut  in  appearance.  It  is  about  the  same  size  and  covered 
with  a  thin  green  shell.  When  this  is  rubbed  off  a  white  substance 
like  a  bit  of  stiff  jelly  is  found  with  a  stone  in  the  centre.  The 
Fijians  consider  it  a  great  delicacy,  and  it  is  really  very  nice.  As  a 
rule,  the  tree  does  not  bear  so  well  inland  as  it  does  on  the  coast, 
and  the  natives  say  that  to  enjoy  it  properly  the  fruit  should  be 
dipped  in  sea-water  to  give  it  a  zest,  and  to  wash  away  the  thin 


1 18 


Vunindawa 


parchment-like  under-skin.  Our  trees  bore  very  well,  usually  in 
January  and  February.  In  the  cool  months  the  leaves  went  rosy  red, 
adding  pleasant  splashes  of  colour  to  the  landscape. 

Below  this  clump  of  ndawa  was  the  Wainimala  sprawling  over  beds 
of  shingle,  like  the  rivers  in  the  Scotch  highlands.  In  the  still  nights 
I  could  hear  the  water  singing  as  it  fought  its  way  over  the  pebbles 
and  stones  with  sweet  and  pleasant  music.  Inland  were  grassy  lawns 
which  we  turned  into  our  rara  or  village  green,  round  which  were 
grouped  the  court-house,  police  quarters,  jail,  and  houses  for  the 
married  men.  On  a  knoll  overlooking  them  was  my  residence  facing 
west,  with  a  broad  wedge  of  fertile  country  between  the  Wainimala 
and  the  Wai-indina  in  the  foreground,  backed  by  high  volcanic  cliffs 
rising  to  a  height  of  some  two  thousand  feet.  On  top  of  them  is  a 
belt  of  forest,  from  which  emerges  a  considerable  stream  which 
tumbles  over  the  grey  precipice  in  two  silver  streaks,  called  Wairuarua, 
or  the  two  waters.  Looking  southward,  I  could  see  down  to  Taivou, 
where  the  Wainimbuka  and  the  Wainimala  meet ;  whilst  northward 
were  the  winding  reaches  of  the  latter  river  as  she  made  her  way 
from  her  source  at  Tomanivei,  the  mother  of  the  waters. 

Tholo  East,  or  Wainimala,  was  a  solely-native  province,  as  there 
were  only  two  whites  in  it,  who  in  partnership  kept  a  small  trading 
station  at  the  junction  of  the  Wainimbuka  and  the  Wainimala.  Not 
long  after  I  settled  down  at  Vunindawa  they  dissolved  partnership 
and  one  of  them  went  elsewhere.  Not  far  from  where  they  lived, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Wainimala  on  its  right  bank,  was  a  coffee 
plantation  owned  by  the  Ansdell  Brothers,  sons  of  the  celebrated 
R.A.,  the  great  painter  of  dogs  and  sporting  scenes.  It  was,  however, 
in  the  Naitasiri  Province,  where  its  borders  touch  Tholo  East.  The 
Ansdells  left  also  soon  after  I  arrived  inland,  but  whilst  they  remained 
they  were  good  and  pleasant  neighbours  with  whom  I  generally  spent 
my  week-ends.  They  were  great  fishermen,  and  Saturdays  were 
generally  devoted  to  the  gentle  craft.  Our  Fijian  rivers“abound  with 
splendid  fish  which  take  freely  our  ordinary  English  flies  and  spinning 
bait.  In  places  where  butchers’  shops  are  an  unknown  quantity  they 
and  the  ducks  and  pigeons  which  fell  to  our  guns  formed  a  most 
welcome  addition  to  our  larders.  We  used  to  start  away  in  my  canoe 
trolling  with  minnows  and  spoons,  and  shooting  ducks  as  we  went 
along.  When  I  first  went  up  there  were  three  brothers,  the  eldest 
of  whom,  Robert,  was  married.  I  have  already  mentioned  the  kind¬ 
ness  of  Mrs.  Ansdell  in  nursing  the  boy  whose  thigh  was  lacerated 
by  a  shark  whilst  swimming  down  the  Wainimala,  and  whose  relatives 
demanded  wages  for  the  time  he  was  being  looked  after.  Before  my 


Vunindawa 


1  r9 

house  at  Vunindawa  had  got  properly  dried,  and  before  there  were 
any  doors  or  shutters  with  which  to  keep  out  the  river  fog,  which  in 
the  cool  season  is  very  thick  and  penetrating,  I  slept  in  it.  The 
result  was  a  sharp  attack  of  fever,  of  what  sort  I  do  not  know,  as  in 
those  days  there  was  no  malaria  in  Fiji.  The  Ansdells  took  posses¬ 
sion  of  me  and  brought  me  down  to  their  place,  where  I  was  most 
kindly  nursed,  and  I  always  remember  their  goodness  with  the 
greatest  gratitude.  But  alas  !  they  did  not  remain  long,  as  coffee 
planting  proved  not  to  be  remunerative,  and  one  by  one  they  drifted 
away.  They  were  very  musical,  and  with  their  piano  and  clarionets 
we  used  to  have  great  concerts. 

It  was  always  a  question  of  speculation  to  our  superiors  as  to  how 
their  district  officers  would  stand  the  solitude  of  isolated  posts  such 
as  mine.  My  mother,  who  was  living  in  Fiji,  prophesied  that  I  should 
console  myself  by  making  gardens,  a  pastime  which  had  previously 
carried  me  through  the  loneliness  of  previous  life  as  a  coffee  planter, 
whilst  a  friend  predicted  that  I  should  be  captivated  by  the  romance 
of  the  work  inland  amongst  the  interesting  people  of  our  Fijian  high¬ 
lands.  Both  proved  to  be  right. 

Vunindawa  lent  itself  wholeheartedly  to  gardening,  and  I  soon  had 
it  ablaze  with  gorgeous  variegated  crotons,  scarlet  dracasnae  and  many- 
hued  varieties  of  the  coleus,  which  flourish  exceedingly,  seeding  per¬ 
petually  and  producing  quantities  of  new  hybrids.  I  also  managed 
to  grow  many  roses  and  other  English  flowers.  Heliotrope  spread 
itself  about  in  great  wheels,  which  was  much  admired  by  my  visitors. 
I  planted,  too,  several  kinds  of  palms  and  tropical  fruits,  such  as 
mangoes,  oranges,  guavas,  rose  apples  and  many  other  varieties,  and 
there  were  always  quantities  of  bananas  and  pineapples.  The  little 
grassy  hill  on  which  my  house  stood  was  studded  with  tall  fern  trees 
and  the  king  plantain,  which  is  so  called  by  the  natives  because  the 
fruit  is  born  in  its  very  crown  and  points  upwards.  Other  varieties 
of  bananas  and  plantains  droop  downwards,  so  the  Fijians  say  that 
the  sauanga  or  brave  chief,  as  the  name  implies,  which  holds  its  head 
erect,  is  lord  and  chief  of  them  all.  It  grows  very  tall  with  magnifi¬ 
cent  long  and  broad  silky  leaves,  and  it  makes  a  splendid  addition  to 
the  foliage  of  a  garden.  The  fruit  itself  is  of  pale  green  appearance 
and  tastes  like  insipid  jelly,  and  is  of  no  use  for  the  table.  Plowever, 
when  mine  came  into  bearing  my  Fijian  neighbours,  according  to  the 
custom  of  kerekere  or  begging,  after  the  native  manner,  used  to  come 
and  ask  me  for  the  fruit.  This  I  always  refused,  as  I  reserved  it  for 
the  delightful  little  humming  birds  and  small  finches,  to  which  it 
afforded  a  real  treat  and  much  enjoyment.  It  was  a  great  pleasure 


120 


Vunindawa 


to  watch  these  beautiful  little  creatures  as  they  darted  in  and  out 
of  the  broad,  glossy  leaves  and  enlivened  the  stillness  by  their  subdued 
twitterings.  If  my  native  friends  desired  the  sauanga  fruit  so  much, 
they  had  only  to  search  the  bush,  as  it  is  a  wild  and  indigenous  plant. 
But  as  I  did  not  eat  those  in  front  of  my  house  they  thought  they 
might  as  well  ask  for  them,  and  they  did  not  understand  why  they 
should  be  kept  for  the  birds. 

Besides  the  ornamental  gardening  we  had  to  have  cultivations  in 
which  to  grow  food  for  the  police  and  prisoners.  The  Government 
allowed  nothing  for  rations,  and  so  we  were  compelled  to  provide 
them  for  ourselves.  However,  the  Fijians  are  skilful  agriculturists, 
and  the  strong-armed  constables  and  inmates  of  the  Provincial  Jail 
raised  the  crops  necessary  to  sustain  themselves  with  yams,  dalo,  an 
edible  arum,  bananas  and  other  native  provisions.  On  the  whole, 
the  people  are  vegetarians,  and,  with  what  the  river  supplied — fish, 
prawns,  eels  and  fresh-water  mussels — we  contrived  to  carry  on  with¬ 
out  outside  assistance.  It  was  a  self-reliant  and  independent  exist¬ 
ence. 

When  I  was  duly  installed  as  Assistant  to  the  Commissioner,  and 
Alfred  Marriott  resumed  his  duties  in  the  Native  Office,  the  Mbure, 
the  official  quarters,  at  Nakorovatu  reverted  to  me.  The  Mbuli,  who 
resided  there  and  was  chief  of  the  district  of  Matailombau,  did  not 
particularly  care  for  the  presence  of  the  Government  in  his  village, 
nor  did  his  people.  He  also  wanted  the  Mbure  for  a  tribal  hall,  as 
it  was  situated  on  the  edge  of  the  village  green.  I  did  not  want  to 
be  cramped  in  a  place  where  I  could  have  no  garden,  and  would  be 
hampered  in  the  keeping  of  poultry.  The  native  police,  who  were 
recruited  from  all  over  the  province,  had  no  proper  planting  grounds, 
and  they,  too,  wanted  to  be  free  from  the  restrictions  of  a  native 
community  not  their  own.  The  Mbuli  and  I  conferred  together, 
and  we  arranged  that  I  should  relinquish  all  claim  to  the  Mbure ,  and 
that  in  return  he  should  build  me  a  house  at  Vunindawa. 

Native  buildings  are  constructed  with  reed  walls,  bamboo  rafters, 
and  on  the  weather  side  of  the  island  are  thatched  with  sugar-cane 
leaves,  which  make  a  most  excellent  roof.  On  the  dry  side,  where 
the  wild  canes  do  not  flourish  from  the  lack  of  moisture,  grass  is  used 
instead.  It  does  not  make  nearly  such  a  neat  cover  and  is  not  water¬ 
tight.  Fijians,  when  they  try,  turn  out  very  pretty  houses  admirably 
suited  to  the  climate,  as  the  materials  used  are  non-conductors  of 
heat,  and  consequently  the  interiors  are  cool  and  pleasant.  They  are 
pleasing,  too,  to  the  eye,  as  the  reed  sides  are  woven  together  like 
basket  work,  and  worked  into  arabesques  by  means  of  black  string 


Interior  of  my  House  at  Vunindawa. 

Built  by  the  Matailombau  people.  There  was  not  a  single  nail  in  it,  and  all  the  material  used 
was  of  native  manufacture,  the  walls  being  hung  with  masi ,  or  bark  cloth. 

Pen  and  Ink  Ske'ch  by  Colonel  Radford ,  C.B.,  C.I.E. 


Sunday  at  Nandarivatu. 


Returning  from  Church.  Left  to  right,  Lieutenant  Ratu  Veli,  myself  and  the  regimental 
mascot,  my  wife’s  mastiff,  Leo,  and  Lieutenant  Herbert  Heniker-Heaton. 


Vunindawa 


12  I 


procured  from  wild  jungle  fibres.  The  walls  are  divided  off  into 
panels  by  laths  cut  from  the  stems  of  the  tree  ferns,  which  are  also 
black.  As  the  reed  work  in  between  is  white,  the  general  effect  is 
black  and  white,  like  the  exteriors  of  our  old  English  houses.  The 
flooring  of  my  quarters  was  made  of  split  bamboos  plaited  into 
squares,  and  the  doors  and  window  shutters  were  made  of  the  same 
material.  In  my  first  house  there  were  no  European  fittings  at  all. 
I  had  a  few  tables  and  chairs,  but  many  of  the  cupboards  and  shelves 
were  made  of  reeds  and  bamboos,  in  the  making  of  which  my  native 
sergeant  was  very  skilful.  The  partitions  between  the  rooms  were 
similarly  constructed,  and  were  overlaid  with  painted  native  cloth 
in  order  to  secure  a  certain  amount  of  privacy.  That  was  difficult 
to  obtain,  owing  to  the  flimsiness  of  the  material  used.  The  general 
effect,  however,  was  pleasant,  and  when  I  was  honoured  by  lady 
visitors  the  first  thing  they  usually  said  after  crossing  the  threshold 
was,  “  Oh  !  what  a  pretty  house  !  ” 

The  new  quarters  were  sixty  feet  long,  or  in  Fijian  parlance  ten 
fathoms.  A  fathom  is  nominally  six  feet  according  to  our  measure¬ 
ments,  but  with  the  natives  it  is  as  much  as  a  man  can  stretch  with 
arms  extended,  from  the  tips  of  the  fingers  on  the  one  hand  to  the 
tips  of  the  other.  The  fathom  and  the  span  are  the  only  standards 
of  length. 

When  the  time  came  to  build  the  Mbuli  sent  his  matanivanua, 
otherwise  his  herald,  talking-man  or  general  factotum,  to  me,  so 
that  we  might  lay  out  the  house  together.  The  first  thing  done  was 
to  fashion  a  rod,  which  I  saw  was  made  equal  to  six  feet.  Then  the 
matanivanua  laid  out  the  house  with  this  and  apportioned  so  many 
fathoms  each  to  various  villages,  and  sent  his  messengers  thither  to 
proclaim  that  building  would  start  on  a  certain  day.  In  the  mean¬ 
time  the  people  to  whom  these  parts  had  been  assigned  would  cut 
the  posts  required,  prepare  the  reeds  and  get  the  string  ready  where¬ 
with  to  fasten  the  material  together.  Not  a  nail  is  used  in  Fijian 
building;  everything  is  tied. 

At  the  appointed  time  the  people  duly  turned  up  with  their  quota, 
which  they  brought  in  rafts  by  the  river,  so  that  all  they  had  to  do 
then  was  to  carry  up  from  the  landing-place  the  requisites  for  the 
house.  When  Fijians  build  for  each  other  they  are  not  paid  in  money, 
but  are  sumptuously  feasted  during  the  time  they  are  at  work.  As  I 
was  getting  this  house  in  exchange  for  the  Mbure  at  Nakorovatu, 
which  was  reverting  to  the  Mbuli,  he  had  to  provide  the  food.  But 
the  expense  did  not  fall  upon  him.  Those  villages  which  were  not 
participating  in  the  erection  of  the  house  furnished  the  mang-iti, 


122  Vunindawa 

as  the  customary  feasts  are  called.  They  are  of  course  the  usual 
huge  baskets  of  yams  and  other  cooked  vegetables  with  Mr.  Pig 
roasted  whole  on  top.  Such  was  the  simple  and  patriarchal  method 
of  carrying  out  a  communal  undertaking,  and  very  effective  and  useful 
it  was.  With  everything  so  prearranged  my  house  went  up  like  magic 
and  was  completed  in  about  three  days.  The  meeting  together  and 
the  prospects  of  roast  pork  and  yams  and  plenty  of  yangona  makes 
everyone  very  lighthearted  and  merry.  The  young  and  active 
members  yell  and  shout  and  work  with  feverish  activity  whilst  the 
elders  look  on  and  applaud.  Many  jokes  are  made  and  witticisms 
exchanged,  and  fun  and  jollity  are  the  order  of  the  day.  Such  was 
the  ancient  custom  in  my  days,  but  the  old  order  is  passing,  and 
education  after  our  fashion  is  supplanting  the  old  methods  and 
substituting  ours  instead. 


CHAPTER  XII 


The  Police  at  Vunindawa 

WHEN  Tholo  East  came  under  my  care  there  were  four 
distinct  bodies  of  police  in  Fiji — the  Armed  Native 
Constabulary,  which  for  the  sake  of  brevity  we  called 
the  A.N.C.,  the  civil  or  town  police,  and  the  rural  and 
village  constables.  The  A.N.C.  headed  the  list,  being  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  the  regular  force  of  the  Colony.  It  was  the  successor 
of  the  Native  Infantry  Regiment  of  King  Thakombau’s  time.  When 
Sir  Arthur  Gordon,  as  the  first  British  Governor,  took  over  His 
Majesty’s  Administration  it  was  still  necessary  to  have  a  backing  of 
armed  force.  To  avoid  any  semblance  of  military  domination  he 
changed  the  title  of  the  old  regiment  and  called  it  the  A.N.C.  As 
it  acted  as  His  Excellency’s  bodyguard,  it  was  better  clothed  than 
the  civil  police,  having  gold  buttons  instead  of  silver,  and  for  the 
first  ten  or  twelve  years  of  its  existence  was  commanded  by  the 
A.D.C.’s  of  the  various  Governors ;  the  Fijians  continued  to  regard 
it  as  their  army.  Under  the  old  regime  they  styled  the  commissioned 
officers  Turang-a-ni-valu,  the  literal  translation  of  which  is  “  Chiefs 
of  War  ”  and  the  rank  and  file  Sofia,  their  way  of  rendering  soldier, 
and  they  adhered  to  these  old  titles  after  the  new  formation.  The 
corps  provided  the  guards  of  honour  for  all  ceremonials,  and  one  of 
its  principal  functions  was  to  provide  firing  parties  at  the  funerals  of 
great  native  chiefs,  to  give  them  “  the  three  rounds  blank.”  Every¬ 
thing  is  celebrated  in  verse  by  the  native  poets,  and,  sad  to  say,  when 
a  party  of  the  A.N.C.  went  over  to  bury  the  old  Lord  of  Kandavu, 
he  who  made  ducks  and  drakes  of  the  sovereigns  found  in  a  captured 
trading  brig,  one  of  the  sotia  fired  out  of  time  and  it  was  duly  recorded 
in  the  lele  or  dirge  composed  for  the  occasion.  It  was  seized  upon 
as  an  opportunity  to  lighten  with  a  little  humour  an  otherwise  tale 
of  woe.  The  A.N.C.,  too,  generally  had  some  bards  in  the  ranks, 
and  here  is  a  specimen  of  one  of  their  meke  or  songs  : 

“  I  clean  my  rifle  every  day  and  at  Government  House  mount  guard, 

I  watch  all  night  until  the  dawn,  oh  !  the  work  indeed  is  hard.” 

123 


124  The  Police  at  Vunindawa 

After  the  A.N.C.  came  the  ordinary  civil  police  employed  in  the 
towns.  It  constituted  a  separate  department  under  officers  of  its 
own,  the  head  of  whom  was  the  Superintendent.  For  the  peace  of 
the  country  districts  there  was  the  rural  police  who  served  with 
the  various  Commissioners  and  Stipendiary  Magistrates.  Finally, 
there  were  village  constables,  whose  sole  duty  was  to  keep  order  in 
the  purely  native  communities.  The  members  of  these  various 
bodies  of  police  were  called  ovisa  in  contradistinction  to  the  sotia  or 
soldiers,  the  rank  and  file  of  the  A.N.C.  The  designation  ovisa 
is  derived  from  the  Bible,  being  taken  from  that  verse  where  a  man 
is  recommended  to  agree  with  his  adversary  whilst  in  the  way  lest  he 
be  haled  before  the  judge  and  by  him  be  delivered  over  to  the  officer, 
etc.  The  earliest  form  of  law  and  order  was  introduced  by  the 
Wesleyan  missionaries,  and  they  drew  upon  Holy  Writ  for  their 
terminology. 

All  these  services  were  kept  going  by  a  method  akin  to  conscription. 
Each  district  was  called  upon  to  furnish  certain  numbers  of  recruits, 
who  were  nominated  by  the  Mbuli  or  head  men.  The  term  for  the 
A.N.C.  and  the  civil  police  was  three  years,  whilst  one  year  sufficed 
for  the  rural  and  village  constables.  Men  could  re-enlist,  if  they 
so  desired,  and  many  spent  the  best  years  of  their  life  with  their 
respective  corps.  Young  chiefs  of  the  highest  rank  served  as  privates 
in  the  A.N.C.  and  as  ordinary  constables  in  the  police.  It  was 
considered  quite  the  right  thing  to  do,  and  such  was  the  constitution 
of  native  society  that  a  man  so-  serving  would  be  treated  with  the 
respect  due  to  his  station  in  life,  and  could  live  en  camaraderie  with 
those  beneath  him  without  derogation.  It  fitted  in  with  the  feudal 
system  of  old  Fiji,  and  kept  the  ranks  full  of  first-rate  men. 

In  1905  an  Ordinance  was  passed  amalgamating  the  Armed  Native 
Constabulary  with  the  civil  and  rural  police  under  the  title  of  the 
Fiji  Constabulary,  which  was  to  be  filled  by  voluntary  enlistment. 
To  effect  this  the  old  rates  of  pay  were  trebled,  which  immediately 
attracted  sufficient  recruits,  but  a  good  deal  of  riffraff  found  its  way 
into  the  ranks.  This  new  creation  being  only  police,  silver  buttons 
and  badges  replaced  the  gold  of  the  old  A.N.C.,  and  the  new  corps 
never  seemed  to  me  as  smart  as  the  one  it  superseded. 

Upon  my  taking  over  Tholo  East  the  police  consisted  of  six  rural 
constables  and  a  sergeant.  The  latter  was  a  younger  member  of  the 
Noemalu  clan,  whose  name  was  Naikasau.  He  was  with  me  for  four¬ 
teen  years  until  he  died  in  1898  from  influenza  whilst  out  with  a 
road  gang.  We  were  occupied  for  some  time  in  making  the  new 
station  at  Vunindawa,  but  when  we  had  got  settled  down  fairly  we 


The  Police  at  Vunindawa  125 

started  to  get  some  bridle  tracks  cut  inland.  I  had  a  Ceylon  road 
tracer  and  laid  out  the  gradients.  Naikasau  followed  with  a  gang  of 
prisoners  and  did  the  cutting  and  making,  and  between  us  we  pretty 
well  opened  up  the  province.  He  earned  such  a  reputation  at  it  that 
the  people,  with  their  usual  predilection  for  nicknames,  dubbed 
him  “  The  Hewer  of  Earth  ”  which  was  regarded  afterwards  as  rather 
a  title  of  honour.  As  our  tracks  were  just  dirt  paths  cut  along  the 
steep  hill-sides  it  fitted  in  very  well.  I  expect  that  I  did  not  escape 
the  usual  custom,  and  I  think  I  overheard  one  day  a  reference  to 
myself  as  “  The  Roller  of  the  Road.”  It  had  nothing  to  do  with  our 
implement  of  that  name  with  which  the  Fijians  of  those  days  were 
unacquainted.  It  was  meant  to  apply  to  the  huge  rollers  at  the  big 
sugar  mills  which  crush  the  canes  to  pulp.  To  the  native  mind  they 
seemed  the  acme  of  power  and  force,  and  they  complimented  me  as 
the  driving  will  which  compelled  the  construction  of  the  roads. 

Naikasau  was  a  sincere  and  consistent  Christian,  and  as  steady  as 
a  rock  in  whatever  was  entrusted  to  him.  A  day  or  two  before  he 
died  he  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  known  him  do  anything  wrong,  and 
I  was  able  to  say  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  never.  If  ever  a  man 
fought  the  good  fight  he  did,  and  like  the  immortal  Gungadin,  “  ’E 
was  white,  clear  white,  inside.”  He  was  once  lured  into  a  slight 
indiscretion,  which,  however,  only  tended  to  show  up  the  poetic  side 
of  his  nature.  He  gave  his  whole  mind  to  duty  and  self-abnegation, 
and  as  a  safeguard  against  temptation  got  married  when  he  entered 
the  service.  The  girl  he  took  was  his  probably  by  tribal  arrangement, 
a  match  made  by  his  and  her  parents  at  their  respective  births  in 
accordance  with  ancient  custom.  It  was  most  unfortunate  for  Naika¬ 
sau,  as  she  proved  to  be  a  virago  and  a  shrew.  In  other  respects  there 
was  nothing  against  her  and  she  was  untouched  by  the  breath  of 
scandal.  But  she  was  neither  pretty  nor  pleasant-mannered,  and 
lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  continual  bad  temper,  and  hampered  her 
husband  at  a  most  critical  moment  by  one  of  her  tantrums.  It  was 
in  1887  when  Sir  Charles  Mitchell,  who  was  our  Governor  then, 
paid  an  official  visit  to  Tholo  East.  He  came  attended  by  his  private 
secretary,  the  Honourable  Rupert  Carrington,  brother  of  the  Marquis 
of  Lincolnshire,  who  was  then,  as  Earl  Carrington,  Governor  of  New 
South  Wales.  He  had  with  him  also  his  A.D.C.,  Lieutenant  Malan, 
R.N.,  and  Mr.  Carew,  the  Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  East. 
Naturally  at  such  a  time  the  rural  police  had  their  hands  very  full, 
but  the  sergeant’s  wife  chose  the  moment  for  a  violent  flare  up,  and 
decamped,  leaving  the  baby  behind  for  her  unhappy  husband  to  look 
after.  As  the  Resident  Commissioner  had  come  up  with  His  Excel- 


126  The  Police  at  Vunindawa 

lency,  the  duty  at  Nandurulolo  on  the  Lower  Rewa  fell  to  my  lot, 
and  so  I  was  not  present  when  this  emeute  took  place,  but  Carew  told 
me  about  it  and  what  an  embarrassment  it  caused. 

The  indiscretion  alluded  to  was  a  flirtation  with  another  lady, 
which  was  really  forced  upon  Naikasau.  My  functions  were  most 
extensive  and  I  was  sought  after  for  many  and  varied  reasons,  some 
of  which  were  calculated  to  make  a  man’s  hair  stand  on  end.  A  lady 
of  high  rank  of  the  Noemalu,  Sergeant  Naikasau’s  own  clan,  thought 
that  her  relatives  were  about  to  force  her  into  a  distasteful  marriage, 
so  she  came  to  Vunindawa  to  seek  my  intervention.  As  a  matter  of 
course,  in  consonance  with  native  ideas  of  hospitality,  she  put  up 
with  her  kinsman  Naikasau,  with  whom  she  started  a  violent  flirta¬ 
tion,  under  the  idea  that  he  had  influence  with  me.  She  said,  “  You 
get  the  Magistrate  to  help  you  divorce  that  wretched  wife  of  yours, 
and  then  you  and  I  can  get  married.”  She  was  young,  pretty  and  an 
arrant  coquette,  and  caused  Naikasau  to  lose  his  head  for  a  while. 
Since  the  introduction  of  education  it  has  become  quite  the  custom 
for  young  Fijians  to  propose  in  writing,  and  Naikasau  sent  Andi 
Kelera  (Lady  Clara)  as  the  damsel  was  called,  a  letter  in  which  he 
said,  “  Oh,  Kelera,  your  words  have  sunk  into  and  filled  my  heart, 
driving  all  else  out,  like  as  a  boulder  detached  from  the  mountain¬ 
side  rolls  down  to  the  valley  below  and  bounding  into  a  pool  splashes 
out  every  drop  of  water.  Now  I  can  only  think  of  you.  If  you  do 
indeed  love  me  wear  the  handkerchief  I  send  with  this,  at  the  service 
to-morrow  morning  in  the  Church.”  Sad  to  say  the  next  thing  which 
happened  was  that  the  fickle  Kelera  brought  the  letter  and  the  pretty 
little  silk  handkerchief  enclosed  within,  and  handed  it  to  me  with  a 
demure  smirk.  Thus  did  she  give  her  lover  away,  but  it  was  ever  so 
with  Fijian  women.  The  teaching  of  generations  that  flirtations 
partook  of  the  nature  of  deadly  sin,  and  that  concealment  of  them 
brought  on  sickness  and  death,  had  sunk  into  their  minds  and  become 
an  hereditary  trait,  or  perhaps  one  might  say,  “  taint.” 

Before  I  had  been  very  long  at  Vunindawa  I  received  a  letter  from 
a  Wesleyan  teacher  at  Mbuethandra,  a  little  village  just  above  the 
junction  of  the  Wainimala  and  the  Wailoa.  He  wrote  to  say  that 
a  chief  called  Nathola-uli  had  come  over  from  Nandrau,  in  West 
Tholo,  and  had  taken  possession  of  Mbuethandra,  and  was  slaughtering 
the  pigs  and  poultry,  and  that  the  villagers  had  in  consequence  all 
fled.  He  ended  up  by  saying,  “  It  seems,  Sir,  as  if  he  is  waging  a  war 
on  us.” 

The  scene  of  action  was  about  twenty-five  miles  up  stream  ;  it 
was  the  wet  season  and  the  rivers  much  swollen.  Nevertheless,  it 


The  Police  at  Vunindawa  127 

seemed  necessary  to  make  an  effort  to  get  up  there,  so  myself,  the 
sergeant  and  a  couple  of  constables  started  off.  It  was  a  small  enough 
party  if  matters  should  turn  out  to  be  so  bad  as  they  were  represented. 
However,  we  relied  upon  turning  out  the  village  police  as  we  went 
along,  who  formed,  in  fact,  the  posse  comitatus.  They  responded  to 
the  call,  and  by  the  time  we  reached  the  scene  of  operations  I  had  a 
tail  of  about  thirty  strapping  fellows,  but  our  only  arms  were  stout 
walking  sticks  or  staves.  As  far  as  I  can  remember,  it  is  now  thirty- 
seven  years  since  the  event,  we  went  a  short  part  of  the  way  by  canoe, 
but  afterwards  as  our  numbers  increased  we  had  to  proceed  on  foot. 
We  marched  up  the  shingle  beds  bordering  the  river,  having  every 
now  and  then  to  make  a  ford  as  the  beds  shifted  from  side  to  side.  It 
rained  steadily  all  the  time  and  gradually  the  river  rose  higher  and 
higher.  At  the  last  crossing  just  before  we  reached  our  destination 
the  water  was  up  to  our  necks  and  running  strongly.  The  sergeant, 
Naikasau,  ranged  himself  on  one  side  of  me  and  a  stalwart  village 
constable  on  the  other,  and  shoulder  to  shoulder  we  effected  the 
ford  and  dripping  wet  found  ourselves  at  Mbuethandra,  which 
apparently  had  been  completely  deserted  by  the  inhabitants.  But 
from  a  house  we  saw  thick  wreaths  of  smoke  coming  through  the 
thatch  and  heard  voices  inside.  I  dived  through  one  door  and  the 
sergeant  through  another.  The  walls  of  the  house  were  low  and  the 
two  doors  very  small,  and  with  the  smoke  with  which  it  was  filled, 
there  was  not  much  fight.  The  pungent  acrid  wood-smoke  made 
my  eyes  smart  and  nearly  blinded  me.  When  I  could  see  I  found 
the  sergeant  had  collared  Nathola-uli  and  had  got  him  handcuffed. 
The  two  were  of  course,  hill  fashion,  related  in  some  mysterious 
manner,  and  the  sergeant  was  reassuring  his  elder  brother,  as  he 
called  hi6  prisoner,  that  he  would  have  to  come  on  a  visit  with  us  to 
Vunindawa,  where  he  might  be  assured  he  would  be  kindly  treated. 
Besides  our  captive  there  were  a  few  old  men  who  through  infirmity 
had  not  been  able  to  flee  when  the  others  had.  I  quite  thought  from 
the  teacher’s  letter  that  Nathola-uli  had  a  considerable  following ; 
he  was,  however,  alone  but  mad.  His  rank  and  insanity  had  frightened 
the  villagers,  so  they  ran  and  relied  upon  me  to  put  matters  right. 

As  soon  as  the  excitement  of  the  arrest  was  over  Nathola-uli 
recovered  the  usual  urbanity  of  a  Fijian  chief  and  said  he  was 
delighted  to  see  me,  and  in  fact  was  on  his  way  to  visit  me  at  Vunin¬ 
dawa  and  pay  his  respects.  Seeing  that  it  was  so  wet  he  asked  me  to 
stay  the  night  and  that  he  would  have  a  pig  killed  for  us.  As  the 
animals  in  the  village  were  not  his,  I  had  to  temporise,  and  told  him 
that  we  must  really  get  a  bit  further  down  the  river  before  nightfall, 


128  The  Police  at  Vunindawa 

and  that  as  there  were  many  affairs  that  we  had  to  discuss  together 
I  asked  him  to  come  on  with  me  to  Vunindawa. 

Nabuethandra  is  up  the  Wailoa  about  three  miles  above  where  it 
joins  the  Wainimala.  At  the  meeting  of  these  streams  is  a  village 
called  Undu,  which  is  quite  a  strategic  point,  as  it  is  the  key  to  the 
extensive  valleys  of  the  two  rivers,  and  it  will  often  be  mentioned 
again  in  the  course  of  this  narrative.  It  was  in  those  days  a  big  and 
important  place.  There  we  found  the  people  gathered  together 
awaiting  our  return,  and  with  them  were  those  who  had  fled  from 
Nathola-uli.  As  he  was  a  high  chief  and  related  more  or  less  to  them 
it  was  considered  the  proper  thing  to  sham  a  little  regret,  and  the 
women  wept  and  mourned  for  him.  He  answered  this  by  prancing 
and  capering  about  the  village  square,  yelling  out  that  he  was  a 
steam  engine  and  required  pigs,  fowls  and  sugar-cane  with  which  to 
keep  up  steam.  Similar  scenes  were  enacted  at  each  village  until  we 
reached  Nakorosuli,  about  half-way  on  our  return  journey.  There 
we  put  up  for  the  night,  and  according  to  the  custom  of  the  land  we 
all  slept  in  the  big,  comfortable  and  well-matted  house  of  the  chief 
of  the  village.  I  was  deadly  tired  from  the  long  march  and  the 
constant  fording  of  the  streams,  and  soon  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 
I  woke  with  a  start  some  time  during  the  night  and  with  the  feeling 
that  something  was  wrong.  I  found  Nathola-uli  on  his  knees  beside 
me,  bending  over  my  body  and  telling  me  not  to  make  a  noise  as  he 
wished  to  say  something  confidential,  which  he  did  not  want  the 
others  to  hear.  “  My  Lord  of  Decision  ”  (a  term  applied  to  judges 
and  magistrates,  as  they  decide  cases),  said  he,  “  they  are  a  bad  lot 
up  at  Mbuethandra  ;  let  us  deport  the  whole  of  them  and  you 
and  I  will  divide  their  lands  between  us.” 

Nathola-uli  was  a  strong  powerful  man,  and  knowing  his  madness 
I  did  not  feel  at  all  comfortable.  “  Nathola-uli,”  said  I,  “  I  am  so 
tired  from  the  strenuous  journey  caused  by  my  desire  to  see  you ;  be 
of  a  good  mind  (yalo  vinaka ),  let  me  sleep  now  and  we  will  talk  the 
affair  over  when  we  get  down  to  Vunindawa.”  That  was  quite 
enough,  I  had  appealed  to  his  sense  of  gentlemanly  behaviour  ;  he 
left  me  and  we  all  slept  through  till  morning. 

We  were  on  the  most  friendly  terms  for  the  few  days  we  were 
together  at  Vunindawa,  although  there  was  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
with  him.  He  observed  that  I  had  not  a  plantain  garden  and  started 
to  make  one,  stealing  the  plants  from  neighbouring  native  cultiva¬ 
tions.  Some  of  the  young  people  jeered  at  him,  and  one  day  I  saw 
two  girls  rush  past  my  house  with  Nathola-uli  in  hot  chase,  and  as  he 
could  not  catch  them  up  he  flung  a  long  clearing-knife  after  them. 


The  Police  at  Vunindawa  129 

To  get  a  man  committed  to  a  lunatic  asylum  is  a  long,  difficult  and 
complicated  process.  It  took  a  certain  amount  of  diplomacy  to  get 
it  done  without  hurting  Nathola-uli’s  feeling  and  invoking  a  display 
of  violence.  When  I  had  complied  with  the  necessary  formalities 
and  drawn  up  the  warrant  of  commitment  I  told  Nathola-uli  that  I 
was  going  to  send  him  down  to  Suva  in  order  that  he  might  get  the 
Governor  to  decide  the  matters  we  had  been  discussing  at  Vunin¬ 
dawa.  The  sergeant,  Naikasau,  was  a  chief  and  a  relative  of  our 
charge,  so  they  went  off  together  quite  happily. 

It  is  one  thing  to  sign  a  warrant  committing  a  man  to  an  asylum, 
but  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  get  him  admitted,  as  his  insanity  has 
to  be  certified  by  a  medical  man.  There  was  no  such  person  in  Tholo 
East  and  Nathola-uli  had  to  be  examined  by  the  medical  officer  of 
the  jail  and  asylum  upon  his  arrival  at  Suva.  That  gentleman 
refused  to  pronounce  him  insane,  and  the  question  then  arose  as  to 
what  was  to  be  done  with  him.  Fortunately  Mr.  Thurston  was  in 
charge  then,  as  Administrator  during  one  of  the  absences  of  the 
Governor,  and  he  was  a  man  who  understood  affairs.  He  directed 
that  Nathola-uli  should  be  sent  back  to  Tholo  West,  his  proper 
province,  and  that  the  Resident  Commissioner  at  Fort  Carnarvon 
should  for  a  wffiile  keep  him  under  observation  there.  This  was  done, 
and  he  remained  under  surveillance  for  a  year  or  two  and  then 
returned  to  his  home  at  Nandrau.  But  his  malady  broke  out  again 
in  a  virulent  form  from  which  he  was  only  released  by  death. 

It  was  always  very  difficult  to  deal  with  lunatics  owing  to  the  reluct¬ 
ance  of  the  doctors  to  certify  them  as  mad.  I  knew  of  a  case  in  which 
a  brother  magistrate  committed  one  to  the  asylum  at  Suva.  The 
medical  officer  declined  to  sign  the  warrant  and  the  man  was  let  go. 
The  next  day  he  ran  amuck  in  the  highway  and  killed  a  harmless 
passer-by. 

Naikasau,  the  sergeant,  was  the  only  one  of  the  rural  constables 
in  Tholo  East  who  stuck  by  me.  The  others  were  mostly  young  men 
who  did  their  year’s  service  and  then  went  home.  They  were  always 
nice  boys,  who  looked  after  me  very  well.  When  I  commenced 
road-making  a  great  deal  of  my  time  was  spent  in  camp  out  in  the 
bush,  and  I  usually  took  a  couple  of  the  constables  as  escort.  I 
generally  offered  to  let  them  go  into  the  nearest  villages  for  the  week¬ 
ends,  but  as  a  rule  they  elected  to  remain  with  me.  Left  alone  in 
such  a  place  there  is  no  knowing  what  might  happen  from  the  evil 
spirits  which  lurk  in  the  forest  depths,  but  company,  noise  and  fire 
scare  them.  So  my  boys  thought  it  their  duty  to  remain  and  see  that 
no  harm  befell  me. 


1 


130  The  Police  at  Vunindawa 

In  those  days  magisterial  work  in  Fiji  was  much  as  it  used  to  be 
in  India  before  the  very  perfect  administrative  system  of  the  present 
time.  The  District  Officer  was  not  only  the  police,  but  the  judge 
and  jury  also.  Like  as  it  was  in  Hindustan,  you  caught  your  man 
before  breakfast  and  after  it  tried  and  convicted  him.  It  was  a 
rough-and-ready  form  of  justice  but  led  to  much  cavilling.  After¬ 
wards,  when  I  went  to  another  district  where  there  was  a  fair  sprink¬ 
ling  of  white  settlers,  I  was  subjected  to  much  criticism  by  one  of 
them,  who  was  my  thorn  in  the  flesh  and  one  of  those  who  were 
always  “  agin  the  government.”  Whenever  my  police  proceeded 
against  him  he  stigmatised  me  as  a  persecutor,  tyrant,  judge  and 
jury  rolled  into  one.  In  his  many  and  frequent  rows  with  the 
natives  he  would,  in  those  instances  when  it  suited  his  convenience, 
invoke  my  aid  as  the  chief  of  the  local  police,  and  demand  my 
assistance  and  protection.  That  was  in  our  Cinderella  days;  now 
the  legal  and  police  work  is  completely  separated,  and  the  Fiji 
Constabulary  has  many  young  and  capable  sub-inspectors,  inspectors 
and  other  grades  who  prosecute  offenders,  leaving  to  the  magistrates 
the  exercise  merely  of  their  judicial  functions. 

Theoretically  the  police  were  always  supposed  to  prosecute,  but 
the  Fijians,  the  old  rural  police  of  my  days  were  incapable  of  such 
a  duty.  In  1890  I  acted  for  the  Stipendiary  Magistrate  at  Mba, 
who  went  home  on  leave.  The  district,  a  large  and  important  one, 
had  many  European  and  Indian  residents  and  my  hands  were  very 
full.  There  was  a  white  police-sergeant  quartered  there,  but  he 
grossly  misbehaved  himself  and  was  dismissed,  and  I  was  left  with 
only  the  Fijian  rural  sergeant  and  his  staff  of  constables.  He  was  a 
shrewd  and  clever  man  in  native  affairs  and  I  thought  that  at  least 
he  could  undertake  the  Indian  larceny  cases.  The  wily  Hindu, 
however,  was  too  much  for  him,  and  after  prosecuting  one  very 
evidently  trumped-up  case  I  asked  why  ever  he  undertook  it. 

“  Oh,”  said  he,  “  the  complainant  came  to  me  and  cried,  so  I 
thought  it  must  be  true.” 


CHAPTER  XIII 


The  Lost  Legion 

“  There’s  a  convict  more  in  the  Central  Jail, 

Behind  the  old  mud  wall ; 

There’s  a  lifter  less  on  the  Border  trail, 

And  the  Queen’s  Peace  over  all, 

Dear  boys. 

The  Queen’s  Peace  over  all.” — Kipling. 

WITH  so  small  a  police  force,  only  a  sergeant  and  six 
constables,  it  would  have  been  almost  impossible  to 
carry  on  in  so  wild  and  rough  a  province  as  Tholo  East 
and  to  keep  the  station  tidy,  had  it  not  been  for  what 
I  called  the  reserve,  otherwise  the  native  prisoners,  the  inmates  of 
the  Provincial  Jail.  They  were  to  the  Colonial  police  as  the  old 
Militia  was  to  the  Line,  or  the  present-day  Territorial  Force  to  the 
Regular  Army.  In  The  Gladiators ,  Whyte  Melville’s  delightful 
book,  we  learn  how  Titus  enrolled  the  members  of  that  outcast 
profession  in  “  The  Lost  Legion,”  which  fought  at  the  siege  of 
Jerusalem.  On  one  occasion,  we,  too,  used  a  gang  of  Fijian  prisoners 
for  a  military  purpose,  so  I  dubbed  them  in  my  mind  as  our  “  Lost 
Legion.” 

The  old  Fijian  law  was  that  of  the  club*  which,  like  our  own 
Articles  of  War,  awarded  death  for  nearly  every  offence.  The  latter, 
however,  is  somewhat  milder,  as  it  has  an  alternative  in  “  such  other 
punishment  as  may  hereinafter  be  provided.”  Should  one  happen 
to  be  on  board  a  man-of-war  when  the  justice  of  the  seas  is  being 
meted  out  one  can  hear  those  unfortunates  who  cannot  carry  their 
liquor  discreetly  being  told  that  by  the  Articles  of  War  the  penalty 
for  their  offence  is  “  death  or  such  other  penalty  as  may  be  herein¬ 
after  provided,”  and  the  sentence  which  follows  is  usually  a  few 
hours’  cells.  When  we  hoisted  our  flag  in  Fiji  something  less  frightful 
than  the  execution  of  the  offender  had  to  be  substituted,  and  fine  or 
imprisonment  became  the  remedy. 

131 


132  The  Lost  Legion 

Many  of  the  offences  against  native  law  and  custom  we  should 
consider  venial,  but  whatever  it  is,  whether  a  serious  crime  or  a  mere 
peccadillo,  the  Fijian  goes  to  jail  lightheartedly,  imprisonment  being 
considered  no  disgrace.  An  unfortunate  gentleman  commits  a  slip 
and  is  sent  to  prison,  where  he  is  subject  to  a  certain  amount  of 
restraint,  but  the  food  is  good  and  regular,  and,  after  all,  what  do 
other  things  matter  ?  For  a  time  he  is  under  a  cloud,  but  does  his 
penance  and  returns  with  full  absolution  to  his  friends,  who  are  too 
well-bred  to  throw  the  unhappy  occurrence  in  his  teeth.  I  once  had 
a  native  friend  called  Paul,  or  as  it  is  pronounced  in  the  soft  Fijian 
“  Paula.”  He  had  unduly  admired  another  man’s  wife  to  the  neglect 
of  his  own,  and  upon  the  complaint  of  the  latter  retired  for  a  year  to 
the  seclusion  of  the  Provincial  Jail.  He  spent  his  time  in  cultivating 
food  crops  for  the  rations  of  the  police  and  the  prisoners,  and  used  to 
go  on  circuit  with  me  as  a  canoeman  and  baggage  carrier  with  other 
gentlemen,  temporarily  under  a  cloud,  who  like  himself,  according 
to  native  idea,  were  being  purged  of  their  sins  by  a  righteous  punish¬ 
ment.  They  did  not  regard  themselves  as  prisoners,  calling  them¬ 
selves  “  Government  men  ”  during  the  term  of  their  sentence  and 
tendered  to  me,  as  their  head,  the  most  devoted  loyalty. 

At  the  end  of  his  year  Paula  returned  to  his  own  village  at  Mbue- 
thandra,  where  we  found  Nathola-uli,  as  mentioned  in  the  last 
chapter.  He  was  at  once  nominated  as  the  constable  there  by  Mbuli 
Muaira,  the  chief  of  the  district,  but  to  the  great  scandal  of  all  Paula 
refused  the  distinction.  His  enraged  superior  haled  him  before  me 
on  the  crime  of  rebellion,  which  in  Biblical  terms  he  designated  as 
the  sin  of  witchcraft  (1  Samuel  xv.  23).  But  the  prisoner  and  I  were 
old  friends  and  understood  each  other,  and  when  I  said  to  him, 
“  Paula,  what  is  this  I  hear,  that  you  are  resisting  the  authority  of 
your  district  chief  and  are  refusing  to  take  up  the  office  of  village 
constable  when  duly  and  legally  nominated  thereto  ?  ”  He  replied 
that  he  was  quite  prepared  to  assume  the  appointment,  but  his  wife 
objected  !  She  had  said  to  him,  “  Look  here,  Paula,  you  have  just 
returned  from  holding  one  Government  position  for  a  year,  and  here 
you  are  about  to  take  another.  I  want  to  know  who’s  going  to  help 
nurse  the  baby.  If  you  don’t,  and  if  you  go  and  be  a  policeman,  I’m 
off  to  my  own  tribe  at  Nandrau.” 

“  Well,  sir,”  continued  Paula,  “  you  know  how  obstinate,  be¬ 
nighted  and  pigminded  a  woman  can  be.  What  could  I  do  ?  ” 

The  case  was  dismissed. 

Opponents  and  critics  of  the  native  system  of  government  used  to 
complain  that  infidelity  to  the  marriage  bond  and  similar  offences 


The  Lost  Legion  133 

were  punished  by  imprisonment,  and  that  Fijians  generally  were 
hedged  round  with  all  sorts  of  restrictions,  and  so  they  were,  but  only 
in  accordance  with  their  own  ancient  institutions.  The  old  club  law 
was  reduced  to  writing  and  embodied  in  the  Native  Regulations, 
which  retained  all  which  was  good  and  proper  and  rejected  the 
improper.  Annually  the  Mbose  V akaturang-a  or  Great  Council  of 
Chiefs  met  and  recommended  additions  or  alterations  to  the  native 
law.  These  were  then  considered  by  the  Native  Regulations  Board, 
consisting  of  Europeans  and  Fijians  and,  if  approved,  were  submitted 
to  the  Legislative  Council,  the  Parliament  of  the  Colony.  Passed 
there  and  assented  to  by  the  Governor,  they  became  effective.  In 
addition  to  the  Great  Council  of  Chiefs  each  province  had  a  council 
of  its  own  and  could  enact  its  own  bye-laws,  which,  if  sanctioned 
by  the  Governor  in  writing,  could  be  duly  enforced. 

It  was  only  men  who  went  to  jail  under  the  Native  Regulations. 
Women  were  punished  by  sentences  to  be  carried  out  in  their  own 
homes.  Suppose  a  co-respondent  was  condemned  to  six  months’ 
hard  labour,  the  female  delinquent  would  be  ordered  to  plait  six 
fathoms  of  mats,  or  make  a  certain  quantity  of  bark  cloth,  or  so  many 
earthenware  pots  or  balls  of  salt,  according  to  the  work  she  had  been 
brought  up  to.  All  pottery  work  and  salt-making  is  done  by  women. 
Infidelity  to  the  marriage  vow  did  not  necessarily  imply  proceedings 
for  divorce  as  it  does  with  us,  although  that  could  be  decreed  if  sued 
for.  Ordinarily  speaking  an  injured  husband  would  be  satisfied  with 
the  imprisonment  of  his  rival,  and,  if  he  asked,  his  wife  would  be 
allowed  to  go  free.  It  was  best  that  she  did,  because  were  she 
directed  to  labour  at  the  production  of  certain  articles,  she  would 
make  it  the  excuse  for  neglecting  all  her  domestic  duties,  and  every 
time  her  husband  asked  her  to  do  anything  she  would  retort  that  the 
Government  work  came  first,  and  it  afforded  her  opportunities  to 
sulk.  The  articles  she  turned  out  were  sold  by  public  auction  at  the 
sittings  of  the  various  courts  and  the  money  thus  derived  applied  to 
public  purposes. 

The  intricate  restrictions  of  tribal  law  created  what  many  of  our 
modern  papers  call  “  police-made  criminals.”  Perhaps,  even  with  us, 
convicts  so  created  would  not  bear  the  stigma  that  usually  applies  to 
a  person  who  has  suffered  a  term  of  imprisonment.  In  my  days 
Fijians  seldom  committed  any  offences  against  our  English  laws. 
Occasionally,  of  course,  they  did,  but  whatever  it  was  it  entailed  no 
social  disgrace  amongst  their  own  people.  No  matter  what  a  man 
did,  when  he  had  completed  his  sentence  he  would  go  home  and  be 
kindly  and  lovingly  received  by  his  own  people,  who  would  embrace 


134  The  Lost  Legion 

and  kiss  him,  and  he  and  they  would  do  a  little  tang-i  or  mutual 
crying.  Then  would  follow  the  mburua ,  a  sort  of  feast  of  atonement 
or  funeral  meal,  after  which  the  past  was  supposed  to  be  buried  and 
forgiven. 

Such  was  the  fidelity  and  docility  of  Fijian  prisoners  that  in  the 
old  Cinderella  days  they  filled  the  positions  of  office  messengers  in  all 
the  public  departments.  These  were  as  far  as  possible  long-sentence 
men,  and  very  efficient  and  useful  they  were.  Some  of  them  got  to 
be  so  well  known  that  we  jokingly  used  to  wonder  how  the  depart¬ 
ments  would  carry  on  when  their  times  were  up.  One  of  them, 
Mbamba,  came  from  my  district.  He  came  before  me  in  the 
Provincial  Court  at  Narorokoyawa,  the  chief  village  of  Noemalu, 
whilst  I  was  on  circuit,  and  was  convicted  of  an  aggravated  assault 
upon  his  wife.  In  a  fit  of  rage  he  had  thrown  scalding  water  on  her 
and  inflicted  dreadful  injuries.  He  was  sentenced  to  two  years’  hard 
labour,  but  escaped  from  custody  almost  directly  after  his  trial. 
I  noticed  when  I  retired  that  night  to  the  upper  end  of  the  large 
house  that  had  been  assigned  as  my  quarters,  that  the  faithful 
Anaiyasa  and  another  of  my  followers  came  and  lay  down  on  the 
mats  at  the  lower  end.  I  was  very  tired,  and  as  it  was  quite  common 
for  a  few  of  my  men  to  use  my  house  whilst  we  were  on  the  march, 
if  they  were  crowded  in  their  own,  I  said  nothing.  Subsequently 
Anaiyasa  told  me  they  were  afraid  that  Mbamba  would  return  in  the 
night  and  murder  me.  It  was  not  I,  however,  that  he  was  after  but 
his  brother-in-law  who  had  given  the  information  which  led  to  his 
conviction.  Mbamba  got  away  home  and  nearly  did  for  him  with  an 
axe,  and  then  took  to  the  forest  country  about  Mount  Victoria. 
I  sent  the  Chief  Constable  of  Noemalu  with  a  posse  of  village  police, 
and  they  chivied  the  fugitive  for  about  five  weeks  and  hunted  him 
from  pillar  to  post,  and  at  last  he  surrendered  and  was  brought  down 
to  Vunindawa.  I  was  very  anxious  lest  he  should  bolt  again  and 
took  special  precautions.  He  told  me  not  to  worry  as  he  had  had 
more  than  enough  of  the  solitude  of  the  jungle,  and  was  prepared  to 
stand  the  consequence  of  his  misdeeds.  As  he  had  attempted  to 
commit  murder  he  was  indicted  and  committed  for  trial  in  the 
Resident  Commissioner’s  Court,  where  he  got  a  further  five  years. 
He  was  sent  to  the  Central  Jail  at  Suva,  where  by  his  exemplary 
conduct  he  became  a  shining  light  and  head  messenger  in  the 
Colonial  Secretary’s  office.  There  he  became  a  most  trusted  member 
of  the  staff. 

Kipling,  in  one  of  his  stories,  tells  of  a  man  who  had  to  rule 
certain  forms,  who  used  to  declare  that  if  he  did  them  wrongly  it 


The  Lost  Legion  135 

would  throw  the  whole  of  the  Government  of  India  out  of  joint. 
I  often  wandered  how  the  Secretariat  would  carry  on  without 
Mbamba,  but  as  Dean  Farrar  says  in  his  life  of  St.  Paul,  no  one  is 
irreplaceable,  and  Mbamba’s  post  was  filled  by  a  lively  young 
murderer,  whose  death  sentence  had  been  commuted  into  penal 
servitude  for  life  on  account  of  his  youth. 

The  name  of  the  latter  was  Natha,  which  means  “  the  evil  one,” 
and  it  turned  out  to  be  quite  ominous.  In  1894  some  people  of 
Seangenga,  on  the  Island  of  Vanua  Levu,  killed  and  ate  a  couple  of 
village  constables  who  went  up  there  to  serve  summonses.  Natha 
was  an  accessory  after  the  murder,  and  ran  round  with  a  spear  which 
he  plunged  into  the  victims’  bodies  after  they  had  been  killed.  I  was 
present  in  the  Supreme  Court  when  the  case  was  tried.  The  Govern¬ 
ment  paid  a  leading  barrister,  a  Q.C.  (of  course  it  was  in  Queen 
Victoria’s  time)  to  defend  the  prisoners.  His  plea  for  Natha  was 
that  he  was  but  a  boy  and  in  mere  wantoness  had  done  as  he  had.  He 
was  reprieved,  and  eventually  succeeded  Mbamba.  He  was  a  nice, 
good-looking  youth,  learnt  English  and  studied  whilst  in  the  Colonial 
Secretary’s  office,  and  his  good  conduct  speedily  earned  a  pardon. 
The  last  thing  I  saw  of  him  was  when  he  became  butler  to  the 
gentleman  who  is  now  Sir  William  Allardyce,  the  Governor  of 
Tasmania. 

Mbamba  upon  his  release  came  to  me  and  enlisted  in  the  rural 
police,  and  eventually  returning  to  Nasongo,  his  native  place,  became 
the  Chief  Constable  of  that  district,  and  died  during  the  term  of  his 
service. 

The  Government  offices  at  Suva  close  at  4  p.m.  The  messengers 
used  to  remain  a  bit  longer  to  sweep  up,  etc.,  and  then  had  to  run 
down  as  hard  as  they  could  to  the  Central  Jail  to  be  present  at 
roll-call  at  5  p.m.,  it  being  a  strict  point  of  honour  not  to  be 
absent  at  that  time.  The  reputation  of  the  jail  had  always  to  be 
considered. 

Whenever  there  was  a  dance  or  a  large  dinner-party  at  Govern¬ 
ment  House  a  gang  of  good,  clean,  respectable  Fijian  prisoners  was 
always  sent  up  to  help  wash  up  the  glasses,  plates,  etc.  Sir  Charles 
Major,  who  is  now  Chief  Justice  in  British  Guiana  and  was  so  in  Fiji, 
on  one  of  the  occasions  when  he  was  Acting  Governor  gave  a  dance. 
He  told  me  that  after  all  the  guests  had  departed  at  about  2  a.m.  he 
heard  a  fearful  row  in  one  of  the  back  verandahs,  and  found  that  the 
native  warder,  who  had  come  up  in  charge  of  the  prisoners,  had  been 
drinking,  not  wisely  but  too  well,  of  the  dregs  in  the  glasses,  and,  sad 
to  say,  was  hilariously  noisy.  The  prisoners  were  dreadfully  upset 


136  The  Lost  Legion 

to  think  that  he  had  so  far  forgotten  himself,  and  were  trying  to 
quieten  him  and  carry  him  home  so  that  no  scandal  should  fall 
upon  the  jail ! 

There  are  heaps  of  other  stories.  I  could  tell  how  one  of  our 
Chief  Justices  spent  a  night  in  a  provincial  jail.  He  went  to  visit 
one  of  the  Stipendiary  Magistrates  unexpectedly.  The  S.M.  was 
away  on  circuit,  and,  not  understanding  Fijian,  the  C.J.  who  arrived 
at  the  station  in  the  dark  put  up  with  the  prisoners.  But 
I  believe  that  story  has  been  told  already,  so  will  refrain  from 
repeating  it. 

One  Boxing  Day  there  was  a  sports  meeting  held  at  Levuka,  and  a 
fight  occurred  between  the  Fijian  police  and  some  Solomon  Islanders, 
in  which  the  latter  got  well  hammered.  Jack  London,  in  one  of  his 
books,  Adventure  I  think,  lays  the  scene  in  what  he  calls  the  “  hard 
bit  Solomons.”  The  designation  is  most  suitable,  and  even  after  we 
established  our  Protectorate  head-hunting  and  cannibalism  were 
rife.  Mr.  C.  Woodford  CM.G.,  was  the  first  Commissioner  there. 
He  also  graduated  in  Fiji,  and  by  his  steady  pressure  and  perseverance 
at  last  evolved  law  and  order.  But  the  Solomon  Islander,  anywhere 
you  find  him,  is  a  ticklish  subject.  One  would  have  thought  that  in 
Fiji  where  they  were  only  in  small  numbers,  that  with  the  Queen’s 
Peace  over  all,  they  would  have  behaved  themselves.  But  no,  they 
wanted  revenge  for  their  mauling  at  Levuka.  There  was  to  be 
another  sports  meeting  at  Suva  on  New  Year’s  Day,  and  they  deter¬ 
mined  to  attack  the  police  then.  It  was  rather  a  roundabout  way, 
as  the  force  there  was  not  composed  of  the  same  men  as  that  at 
Levuka.  But  it  fitted  in  with  their  style  of  reasoning.  I  happened 
to  be  in  Suva  for  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  my  colleague  in  the 
A.N.C.,  who  also  was  Superintendent  of  Police,  asked  me  to  give  him 
a  hand  and  see  the  business  through.  He  was  afraid  that  the  Solomon 
Islanders  might  get  out  of  hand  altogether,  and  not  confine  their 
attentions  to  the  police  only.  I  went  to  see  Sir  John  Thurston,  who 
was  our  Governor  then,  and  asked  his  permission  to  utilise  sixty  able- 
bodied  Fijians  then  in  the  Central  Jail  as  a  reserve.  He  gave  his 
permission  and  we  threw  a  small  picket  of  the  A.N.C.  into  the  Suva 
police  station  with  a  bugler.  Another  bugler  was  hid  in  a  clump  of 
trees  half-way  down  the  road  towards  the  jail.  If  anything  happened, 
the  one  at  the  police  station  was  to  sound  the  alarm,  when  the  rest  of 
the  A.N.C.  from  their  barracks  at  Government  House  were  to  take 
the  Solomon  Islanders  in  flank,  and  the  Lost  Legion  of  the  jail,  upon 
the  call  from  the  clump  of  trees,  were  to  charge  their  rear  with  pick 
and  crowbar.  But  nothing  happened,  as  the  Solomon  men  saw  we 


In  Gala  Dress. 

In  my  garden  at  Vunindawa,  in  order  to  perform  a  tneke  or  native  dance  before  the  Governor, 

Sir  John  Thurston. 

Photo  by  Sir  John  Thurston 


The  Lost  Legion  137 

were  prepared  and  they  never  attack  unless  they  can  take  their  foe 
unaware.  I  did  not  think  they  would,  and  towards  midnight  I  made 
a  round  of  the  town  by  myself.  There  were  many  of  the  supposed 
would-be  rioters  about,  and  I  talked  to  some  whom  I  knew.  One  of 
them,  Tomo,  lived  at  Viria  on  the  Upper  Rewa,  which  for  revenue 
purposes  was  under  me.  I  asked  him  what  he  was  doing,  and  he 
politely  replied  that  hearing  I  was  in  town  he  had  come  in  to  see  me 
and  pay  his  respects.  Some  time  afterwards  when  things  had 
sobered  down  some  of  the  Solomon  men  owned  that  they  had 
intended  to  have  attacked  the  police,  had  they  had  a  favourable 
chance. 

Soon  after  I  had  taken  up  my  quarters  at  Vunindawa  I  had  an 
experience  of  our  happy-go-lucky  ways.  One  of  the  Suva  civil 
police  turned  up  with  a  Fijian  prisoner,  a  warrant,  handcuffs  and  a 
letter  from  the  Superintendent,  asking  that  he  might  be  taken  over 
and  delivered  to  the  European  Stipendiary  Magistrate  at  Mba.  He 
said  that  he  was  very  short  of  constables  and  surmised  that  I  too 
would  be  hard  up  for  men.  He  therefore  suggested  that  I  should 
send  the  prisoner  on  to  the  nearest  Native  Stipendiary  Magistrate, 
who  could  then  pass  him  on  to  his  next  colleague,  and  so  on  until  the 
ultimate  destination  was  reached.  Urgent  letters  are  passed  from 
village  to  village  by  a  native  system  called  vakandewa ,  which  is  very 
effective,  and  the  Superintendent  had  this  in  his  mind  when  he 
proposed  the  method  just  mentioned.  One  of  my  constables  took 
the  prisoner  over  and  escorted  him  to  my  native  colleague  at  Naroko- 
rokoyawa,  twenty-four  miles  further  on  the  way,  right  in  the  interior 
of  the  island,  leaving  some  eighty  miles  still  to  be  traversed.  My  man 
returned  saying  he  had  handed  over  his  charge  as  ordered.  The  next 
thing  which  happened  was  that  I  got  a  furious  letter  from  the 
magistrate  at  Mba,  saying  that  the  prisoner  had  arrived  without  any 
escort,  and  had  delivered  himself  up  with  his  warrant,  handcuffs  and 
route  paper,  and  what  sort  of  a  way  was  that  of  carrying  out  official 
routine  and  duty  ?  His  effusion  did  not  perturb  me  as  we  all  knew 
him  as  a  wild  Irishman,  and  notoriously  the  most  irregular  officer  in 
the  Service.  He  used  to  boast  that  he  only  looked  at  the  Ordinances 
to  see  what  the  maximum  sentences  were,  and  he  was  in  continual 
hot  water  over  his  frequent  delinquencies.  With  his  Celtic  impulses 
the  romance  of  the  whole  affair  ought  to  have  appealed  to  him.  The 
prisoner  was  a  notoriously  bad  character,  and  had  only  delivered 
himself  up  as  he  had  been  put  upon  his  honour.  When  I  investigated 
the  matter  I  found  that  my  native  colleague  duly  detailed  a  village 
ovisa  to  take  the  prisoner  on  in  the  manner  prescribed.  On  the  way 


138  The  Lost  Legion 

the  escort  said  to  his  charge  :  “  Look  here,  my  friend,  this  is  an 
extremely  disagreeable  job  ;  my  father  is  very  ill  and  I  ought  to  be 
looking  after  him,  and  here  am  I  detailed  to  take  you  over  to  the 
next  post.  According  to  the  custom  of  our  country  I  beg  you  to  be 
yalo  vinaka  (of  a  good  spirit)  ;  here’s  your  warrant,  handcuffs  and  my 
route  paper,  go  and  deliver  yourself  up.”  The  soul  of  the  prisoner 
was  good,  and  he  duly  turned  up  at  the  police  station  at  Mba,  as 
already  told. 

The  prisoners,  too,  had  their  bards,  as  may  be  witnessed  by  the 
subjoined  “  Song  of  the  Magistrate’s  cat.”  It  refers  to  an  ancient 
animal  of  that  species  on  which  the  prisoners  in  the  jail  at  Levuka 
feasted  on  a  certain  Christmas  Day.  The  cat  is  not  an  indigenous 
animal,  but  after  its  importation  some  of  the  species  took  to  the  bush 
and  there  throve  and  multiplied,  and  the  Fijians,  who  already  were 
rat  eaters,  added  it  to  their  dietary  list.  They  say  that  white  men 
are  fools,  because  they  will  not  eat  it  and  do  not  know  how  good 
it  is.  By  some  it  is  even  regarded  as  a  delicacy.  I  was  travelling  in 
the  hills  once  with  Dr.,  afterwards  Sir  William,  Macgregor,  when  he 
was  Acting  Governor.  We  had  to  spend  one  night  in  a  Namosi 
village.  At  the  kava  drinking  which  ensued  the  head  man  gave  as 
his  toast,  “  Oh  !  for  the  head  of  a  wild  cat  !  ”  I  asked  him  if  it  was 
good  and  he  simply  replied  “  Sombu ,”  which  is  an  exclamation  of 
admiration. 

At  great  feasts  the  food  is  solemnly  shared  out  by  the  heralds  and 
when  the  yams  and  ndalo  have  been  duly  divided  amongst  the 
different  communities  and  stacked  up  on  the  village  green,  the  pigs 
are  carved  and  their  joints  placed  upon  the  different  heaps,  the  head 
being  considered  the  piece  of  honour.  Then  the  chief  herald  goes 
round,  and  laying  his  hand  upon  each  portion  proclaims  the  name  of 
the  people  to  whom  it  belongs.  They  in  response  clap  their  hands, 
the  Fijian  method  of  returning  thanks,  come  forward  with  leaves  and 
baskets  and  carry  off  their  shares. 

The  inmates  of  the  jail  enlivened  their  Christmas  with  satire  and 
humour,  and  ate  the  old  tom-cat  of  Mr.  J.  K.  M.  Ross,  the  Stipen¬ 
diary  Magistrate  at  Levuka,  with  all  the  pomp  and  ceremony  of  a 
great  festival.  But  alas  !  he  was  old  and  lean,  and  there  was  as 
little  fat  in  him  as  in  the  jib  of  a  cutter.  The  prisoners  at  Levuka 
belonged  to  the  maritime  tribes  and  understood  the  simile  they 
made  use  of. 


i39 


The  Lost  Legion 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  MAGISTRATE’S  CAT. 

{The  Christmas  Carol  of  the  Prisoners  in  Jail  at  Levuka.) 

Upon  the  mats  you  must  not  lie  ; 

I  labour  hard,  I  sob,  I  sigh  ; 

The  feast  of  Christmas  draweth  nigh. 

Above  us,  Mr.  Ross  doth  cry : 

“  Go  !  catch  me  now  my  old  black  cat ! 

Put  in  a  bag,  and  bear  away, 

And  pitch  the  rascal  in  the  bay  !  ” 

“  Sir  Judge,  thy  pardon  now  I  pray,” 

Thus  said  a  youth  of  Mathuata  ; 

“  For  your  old  puss  my  mouth  doth  water, 

I’d  dearly  like  to  eat  him  roast. 

Cheer  up  !  and  make  of  him  the  most ! 

Forgotten  we  by  every  friend, 

And  unto  us  no  fowls  they  send. 

And  pigs  are  further  off  than  Tonga. 

At  Christmas  plenteous  are  the  dishes, 

Those  thoughtless  friends  eat  pork  and  fishes 
Afar  in  our  dear,  distant  homes. 

In  jail  we’ve  just  this  old  tom-cat, 

We’re  roasting  whole,  insides  and  all — 

His  giblets  make  a  tasty  ball !  ” 

Up  rose  Mbua’s  Childe  and  spake  : 

“  Let  us  divide  this  chieflike  bake, 

That  one  and  all  their  share  may  take. 

A  shoulder  for  Lomai  Viti ; 

Mbua  may  have  a  roasted  thigh  ; 

The  body  for  the  men  of  Tai ; 

The  head  is  Mathuata’s  share.” 

Lean  was  old  Tom,  and  tough  and  rare, 

And  no  more  fat  was  on  each  rib 
Than  on  a  cutter’s  flying-jib  ! 

It  is  therefore  not  astonishing  that  Sir  Everard  im  Thurn,  the 
last  of  the  Governors  under  whom  I  served,  described  the  Fijian 
prison  system,  in  a  long  minute,  as  being  of  the  nature  of  “  Comic 
opera.”  It  suited,  however,  the  genius  of  the  people  and  served  its 
time,  and  happy  were  we  that  it  was  so,  and  that  there  was  no 
tragedy  with  it  during  my  forty  years’  residence  in  Fiji. 

Sir  Everard,  one  of  the  most  sympathetic  of  our  rulers,  was  right. 
There  was  no  crime  in  the  Colony  to  speak  of  until  the  Indian  coolies 


140  The  Lost  Legion 

made  their  appearance.  Although  on  the  whole  they  were  a  useful 
and  estimable  body,  until  emissaries  spread  disaffection,  there  was  a 
considerable  sprinkling  of  criminals  among  them,  and  seldom  a 
quarterly  sessions  passed  without  the  infliction  of  the  capital  punish¬ 
ment.  The  intercourse  between  Fijian  and  Hindu  prisoners  in  the 
various  jails  must  in  time  inevitably  lead  to  the  contamination  of  the 
former,  and  call  for  sterner  discipline  that  that  of  the  old  native 
system. 

The  effect  of  the  Indian  impact  upon  the  South  Seas  is  interesting, 
and  as  this  narrative  proceeds  I  hope  to  say  something  about  it. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


Church  State 


THE  commonest  wish  at  the  drinking  of  yangona  and  the 
pious  aphorism  propounded  on  the  presentation  of 
whales’  teeth,  food  and  other  property  is  :  “  May  the 
Religion  and  Government  flourish,”  equivalent  to  our 
old  toast  of  “  Church  and  State.” 

Wesleyanism,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  occupies  the  position  of 
the  established  religion  of  Fiji.  It  was  the  first  form  of  Chiistianity 
to  be  introduced,  and  was  brought  to  the  group  by  Messrs.  Cargill 
and  Cross,  the  pioneer  missionaries  in  1835.  About  that  date  the 
leading  Protestant  denominations  were  showing  great  activity  in  the 
South  Seas.  To  prevent  overlapping,  and  for  the  purpose  of  not 
creating  confusion  amongst  their  converts,  they  divided  the  islands 
and  agreed  not  to  encroach  on  each  other.  The  Church  of  England 
took  the  groups  known  as  Melanesia,  the  Wesleyans  Fiji,  the  London 
Missionary  Society  Samoa  and  New  Guinea,  and  the  Presbyterians 
the  New  Hebrides.  This  compact  has  been  loyally  observed,  and 
although  Fiji  is  also  the  seat  of  an  Anglican  Bishop,  he  and  his  clergy 
minister  only  to  the  English  community.  The  Church  of  Rome, 
considering  all  outside  of  her  pale  as  heretics,  had,  of  course,  no  hand 
in  this.  Being  late  in  entering  the  field,  she  never  got  the  same  grip 
on  Fijian  life  as  Wesleyanism,  but  the  introduction  of  a  different 
form  of  doctrine  added  to  the  difficulty  of  administration  among  the 
natives. 

Some  time  after  1884,  the  date  of  my  joining  the  Fijian  Service, 
another  sect  appeared,  the  Seventh  Day  Adventists,  founded  appa¬ 
rently  upon  a  vision  granted  to  somebody  in  the  United  States  about 
the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Although  its  introducers  were 
good,  homely  men,  who  led  the  most  exemplary  lives,  it  proved  a 
veritable  causer  of  stiife  and  another  Cave  of  Adullam.  All  those 
turned  out  by  the  Government,  or  by  the  Wesleyans  and  Roman 
Catholics,  flocked  to  the  new  body.  It  gave  to  such  a  fresh  start, 
and  was  an  illustration  of  the  old  adage  :  “  It  is  never  too  late  to 


14-2  Church  State 

mend.”  A  youthful  friend,  who  entered  the  Government  service 
through  me,  left  after  a  short  career.  He  then  joined  the  Wesleyans 
as  a  teacher  and  was  expelled  before  long.  Then  he  tried  his  luck 
with  the  Roman  Catholics,  and  with  them,  too,  his  stay  was  but 
brief.  Then  he  became  a  Seventh  Day  Adventist,  but  whether  he 
remained  steadfast  I  do  not  know.  He  meant  well,  but  his  wayward 
nature  was  too  strong.  I  have  an  interesting  little  paper  on  Fijian 
snails  which  he  wrote  for  me.  That  little  mollusc  has  become  almost 
extinct  in  Viti  Levu  owing  to  the  introduction  of  the  omnivorous 
mongoose. 

It  always  puzzled  me  how  the  Seventh  Day  people,  or  Kavitu 
(sevenths),  as  the  Fijians  called  them,  ever  attracted  converts.  In 
regard  to  food,  the  chief  joy  of  Fijian  life,  the  discipline  was  most 
rigid,  and  the  new  doctrine  seems  a  resuscitation  of  the  Law  of  Moses, 
the  yoke  which  proved  too  heavy  for  those  for  whom  it  was  intended. 
Pork,  crabs,  prawns  were  tambu’ed ,  and  so,  too,  was  yangona  and 
tobacco.  That,  however,  was  a  matter  of  internal  economy  affect¬ 
ing  the  faithful  only.  But  the  reinstatement  of  the  seventh  day  as 
the  Sabbath,  with  the  consequent  resumption  of  everyday  work  on 
Sundays,  was  an  unmitigated  public  nuisance  and  created  disturb¬ 
ances. 

In  a  certain  village  within  my  jurisdiction  some  of  the  inhabitants 
had  gone  over  to  the  new  way,  and  proceeded  to  thatch  a  house  close 
to  the  Wesleyan  Church  one  Sunday.  I  have  endeavoured  in  a  pre¬ 
vious  chapter  to  show  what  a  noisy  job  thatching  is.  It  is  carried 
on  to  a  loud  chorus  of  yells  of  “ Rau ,  rau,  rau,”  or  “  Leaves,  leaves, 
leaves,”  being  demands  for  bundles  of  thatch  to  be  pitched  up  to 
the  men  on  the  roof.  It  was  too  much  for  the  congregation  at  prayer 
in  the  adjoining  building,  who,  headed  by  the  pastor,  sallied  forth 
and  pitched  into  the  Kavitu  with  their  fists  in  true  British  fashion, 
and  drove  their  opponents  from  the  village.  In  due  course  the  matter 
came  before  the  Provincial  Court,  where  the  Wesleyans  were  charged 
with  assault  and  battery.  They  pleaded  provocation  and,  proving  it, 
were  acquitted. 

Shortly  afterwards  I  was  making  a  round  in  Tholo  North,  and 
having  ridden  over  Mount  Victoria  was  passing  the  night  at  Nasongo. 
I  was  tired  after  the  long,  hot  ride  over  the  rough  hill  track  and 
sought  the  seclusion  of  my  mosquito  curtain  at  an  early  hour. 
Scarcely  had  I  laid  down  when  I  heard  voices  just  outside  the  native 
house  in  which  I  was,  and  my  orderly  came  to  my  bedside  and  said 
that  the  white  gentleman,  the  head  of  the  Kavitu,  wished  to  see  me. 
I  turned  out,  and  my  visitor  proceeded  to  state  his  view  of  the 


Church  &  State  143 

recent  encounter  between  his  people  and  the  Wesleyans  and  to  ask 
for  protection  for  his  converts.  I  told  him  that,  of  course,  I  would 
see  that  they  were  not  persecuted  in  any  way,  but  at  the  same  time 
I  expected  that  they  would  refrain  from  aggravating  their  fellow- 
villagers  by  unseemly  behaviour  on  Sundays.  He  was  quite  reason¬ 
able  and  saw  my  side  of  the  case,  and  promised  to  admonish  his 
followers  on  the  subject.  Towards  the  close  of  our  interview  he  said, 
“  Sir,  I  never  inculcate  anything  not  laid  down  by  Our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.”  Foolishly  I  was  tempted  to  enter  into  a  small  argument. 
“  Oh  !  ”  replied  I,  “  is  that  so  ?  Why,  then,  do  you  forbid  your 
adherents  to  drink  yangona  ?  I  always  have  thought  that  the  miracle 
at  Cana  in  Galilee  was  a  proof  in  favour  of  a  moderate  enjoyment 
of  wine.”  “  Ah  !  ”  answered  the  Kavitu  leader,  “  that  was  not  wine 
as  we  understand  it  ;  it  was  only  the  pure  fresh  juice  of  the  vine. 
Our  Lord  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  anything  that  contained 
fermentation  or  death.”  Although  I  did  not  think  as  he  did,  it 
flashed  through  my  mind  that  theology  was  not  my  strong  point, 
and  that  I  had  better  pass  on  to  something  about  which  there  could 
be  no  mistake  at  all,  so  I  said,  “  Well,  what  about  tobacco  ?  You 
forbid  your  votaries  the  use  of  it ;  there  is  nothing  in  the  Bible 
against  that.”  A  beaming  smile  spread  over  my  opponent’s  counte¬ 
nance,  and  with  the  utmost  conviction  he  triumphantly  asserted  : 
“  The  Bible  most  strictly  forbids  it.  Does  it  not  say  in  Deuteronomy 
that  the  noxious  weed  shall  be  rooted  up  from  the  land,  and  what 
else  but  tobacco  can  have  been  meant  ?  ”  Then  I  recollected  that 
I  had  ridden  that  morning  across  the  dividing  range  and  was  tired. 
So  I  said  good  night  and  returned  to  bed. 

Wesleyanism,  owing  to  its  dominant  numbers,  has  come  to  be 
tacitly  acknowledged  as  the  State  religion,  although  it  has  no  official 
recognition  as  such.  In  my  time  it  was  the  only  denomination  whose 
members  were  employed  and  paid  as  chaplains  by  the  Government. 
Every  Sunday  at  Nandarivatu  I  attended  the  A.N.C.  church  parades, 
the  service  being  conducted  by  our  native  Wesleyan  padre.  After 
“  revally,”  each  day  was  opened  by  roll  call,  after  which  the  men, 
led  by  the  chaplain,  said  the  Lord’s  Prayer  on  parade  in  a  low  voice 
and  with  bent  heads. 

On  a  small  station  like  Vunindawa,  where  I  was  for  eight  years 
until  I  moved  on  to  Nandarivatu,  there  was  no  chaplain,  but  every 
Sunday  one  of  the  clergy  from  an  adjacent  village  came  and  held  a 
service  for  the  police  and  prisoners  in  the  Court  House.  Every  little 
hamlet  has  its  V akavuvuli,  which  means  the  source  or  origin  of  learn¬ 
ing,  and  hence  we  commonly  designated  such  as  teachers.  That  was 


144  Church  &  State 

the  first  grade  in  the  Wesleyan  ministry.  He  merely  holds  services 
in  the  villages  and  teaches  the  children  the  elements  of  education. 
Immediately  above  him  is  the  V  akatawa ,  literally  the  man  in  charge, 
but  officially  called  the  catechist  by  the  ruling  body.  He  is  equivalent 
in  our  system  to  the  Rural  Dean,  as  a  certain  number  of  parishes  are 
administered  by  him.  Then  comes  the  T alatala-i  taukei  or  native 
minister,  roughly  corresponding  to  our  Archdeacons.  He  can  per¬ 
form  marriages,  and  is  duly  posted  to  that  effect  in  the  Government 
Gazette.  Over  all  is  the  white  missionary,  the  head  of  the  circuit, 
as  the  Wesleyans  call  it.  I  used  to  regard  him  in  my  own  mind  as 
the  Bishop  of  the  Diocese  ;  and  over  all  was  the  Chairman  of  the 
Methodist  Mission,  whom  in  turn  I  looked  upon  as  the  Archbishop. 

The  Wesleyans  like  to  call  themselves  Methodists,  and  so  good  is 
their  organisation  that  they  well  deserve  the  appellation.  Their 
system  in  Fiji  is  for  their  native  teachers  to  exchange  pulpits  every 
Sunday.  They  start  at  dawn  and  pass  from  village  to  village  holding 
services,  and  thus  each  community  gets  a  change  of  preachers. 
These  are  usually  accompanied  by  one  or  two  youths,  friends,  and 
in  many  cases  aspirants  also  to  the  ministry  get  their  preliminary 
training  at  home.  They  carry  their  tutor’s  pulpit  get-up,  generally 
a  white  sulu  and  shirt,  collar  and  black  tie,  and  his  books.  Travelling 
through  the  dense  jungle  wet  with  dew  or  rain  and  the  fording  of 
the  frequent  streams  necessitates  a  change  of  raiment  when  the  time 
comes  for  holding  the  services.  This  duty  rendered  to  their  teacher 
by  his  scholars  is  cheerfully  and  willingly  given  and  has  its  due 
reward.  At  every  village  to  which  these  wandering  preachers  go  a 
substantial  meal  is  provided,  called  the  tali  vunau  or  the  return  for 
the  sermon.  As  much  of  this  as  is  possible  is  eaten,  and  it  is  tara  or 
lawful  on  the  Sabbath  to  take  home  the  rest.  But  it  is  tambu  to 
accept  money  on  that  day.  When  one  of  these  itinerant  parsons 
performed  the  service  for  us  at  Vunindawa  at  first  I  humbly  used  to 
tender  a  small  collection.  It  was  always  refused  then,  with  a  request 
that  it  might  be  given  again  on  the  morrow,  when  it  was  always 
called  for.  Then,  when  I  began  to  learn  the  ropes,  I  gave  the  sergeant 
a  tin  of  bully  beef.  He  and  the  police  would  provide  the  yams,  and 
thus  we  were  able  to  provide  a  proper  tali  vunau. 

The  late  Reverend  George  Brown,  so  well  known  in  the  South  Seas 
as  the  General  Secretary  of  the  Australian  Methodist  Society,  and  so 
much  liked  from  his  liberal  and  generous  views,  gave  me  a  splendid 
example  of  how  his  native  converts  regarded  such  a  matter.  Before 
he  went  to  live  at  Sydney  as  the  General  Secretary  he  had  a  life’s 
experience  in  the  mission  field.  His  story  was  about  the  balolo,  the 


Church  &  State  145 

wonderful  annelid,  or  sea  worm,  resembling  vermicelli,  which  annu¬ 
ally  makes  its  appearance  in  untold  myriads.  They  come  up  first  in 
October,  but  it  is  in  November  that  the  main  phenomenon  occurs  ; 
then  the  waters  of  the  ocean  are  literally  thick  with  these  little 
wriggling  animals,  and  they  can  then  be  scooped  up  by  the  bucketful. 
Those  versed  in  their  habits  can,  by  the  stage  of  the  moon,  predict 
their  advent  almost  to  the  very  hour.  Dr.  Brown  told  me  that  on 
one  occasion  in  a  district  of  which  he  was  presiding  missionary  the 
balolo  rose  on  a  Sunday.  That  precluded  the  Protestant  part  of  the 
community  from  having  anything  to  do  with  it,  but  not  the  Roman 
Catholics.  They  went  out  with  every  boat  and  canoe  they  could 
lay  hand  on,  and  returned  laden  to  the  gunwhales.  They  duly  cooked 
the  greatly  esteemed  delicacy  and,  with  usual  native  generosity, 
brought  large  messes  of  it  to  the  tribal  hall  and  presented  them  to 
their  Protestant  friends,  in  whose  minds  ensued  a  direful  struggle. 
Their  mouths  watered,  but  was  it  lawful  to  eat  that  w'hich  had  been 
caught  and  cooked  on  the  Sabbath  ?  For  a  while  the  stern  dictates 
of  their  religion  prevailed,  but  at  last  an  old  greybeard  plumped 
down  on  the  mats  in  front  of  one  of  the  coveted  dishes,  saying,  “  I 
remember  what  St.  Paul  says  :  ‘  Eat  that  which  is  put  before  thee, 
asking  no  questions  for  conscience  sake.’  ”  That  solved  the  difficulty, 
and  the  hitherto  dissentients  fell  to  with  a  will. 

Tholo  East,  my  first  district,  was  in  the  Mbau  circuit,  presided 
over  by  the  Chairman  of  the  Methodist  Mission  in  Fiji,  the  Reverend 
Frederick  Langham,  the  Archbishop.  He  was  a  very  fine  man  both 
mentally  and  physically,  though  inclined  to  be  somewhat  narrow¬ 
minded  and  of  the  smite-them-hip-and-thigh  genus.  I  used  to  com¬ 
pare  him  to  the  pastor  I  had  read  about  in  an  American  book  called, 
I  think,  The  Letters  of  a  Self-made  Man  to  his  Son ,  who  is  depicted 
as  one  incapable  of  understanding  the  modern  conceptions  of  a 
spiritual  Gehenna,  where  the  damned  suffered  the  pangs  of  mental 
remorse,  but  whoseTielief  was  in  a  material  Hell  seven  times  heated. 
Such,  I  think,  was  Mr.  Langham.  But  he  had  the  saving  sense  of 
humour  and  did  not  lose  his  temper  when  arguing  with  an  opponent. 
He  had  a  rabid  dislike  of  yangona  and  tobacco,  and  he  used  to  try 
and  get  his  people  to  abjure  them.  For  my  part  I  could  never  see 
why  one  should  be  cut  off  from  the  simple  pleasures  of  life,  and  when 
we  met  occasionally  we  used  to  dispute  the  matter.  But  although 
he  was  dead  against  the  use  of  both  these  products  of  Fiji,  there  was 
always  a  kindly  twinkle  in  his  eyes  when  we  argued  with  each  other. 
He  was  a  good  sportsman  and  did  not  seem  to  know  what  fear  was. 
My  stud  in  those  days  consisted  principally  of  a  ramping  pony 

K 


146  Church  State 

stallion,  who  always  used  to  try  and  get  rid  of  his  mounts  by  cow- 
kicking,  or  trying  to  brush  them  off  like  mosquitoes  with  one  of  his 
hind  legs.  He  was  decidedly  an  aggravating  sort  of  animal,  which, 
added  to  the  break-neck  properties  of  our  highland  tracks,  made 
riding  a  bit  of  a  trial.  Yet  when  Mr.  Langham  made  his  annual 
visitation  and  I  used  to  offer  him  a  mount,  he  never  refused  and 
stuck  on  gaily,  whilst  Kallicrates,  as  my  little  beast  was  called,  per¬ 
formed. 

He  told  me  that  he  had  visited  the  upper  part  of  my  district  whilst 
the  inhabitants  there  were  still  cannibals.  He  was  accompanied  by 
some  of  his  native  converts  from  the  lower  river,  and  on  one  occasion 
they  had  to  run  for  their  lives.  He  was  outstripped  and  was  at  his 
last  gasp  and  momentarily  expecting  the  club.  Suddenly  there 
occurred  a  brain  wave,  and  he  turned  sharply  round  and  faced  the 
pursuers.  Then  he  whipped  out  his  false  teeth,  placed  them  on  the 
palm  of  his  hand  and  offered  them  to  the  nearest  foe.  With  a  wild 
yell  the  enemy  turned  about  and  fled. 

I  knew  of  an  almost  similar  occurrence.  On  my  first  voyage  to 
Fiji  I  was  shipmate  with  an  ex-Confederate  officer.  It  was  not  very 
long  after  the  great  American  Civil  War.  He  was  a  nephew  of 
General  Beauregard,  the  celebrated  Southern  commander,  and  had 
left  his  leg  on  one  of  the  battlefields.  He  was  fitted  with  a  most 
excellent  cork  substitute,  and,  save  for  a  slight  limp,  there  was  no 
difference  in  his  gait,  and  it  was  some  time  before  I  knew  of  his 
misfortune.  When  we  arrived  in  Fiji,  a  planter  who  had  come  up 
to  Levuka  in  his  whaleboat  suggested  to  P.,  the  owner  of  the  leg, 
that  a  little  fun  might  be  got  out  of  it.  Calling  one  of  his  boatmen, 
he  told  him  to  go  and  pull  P.’s  boot  off.  The  strap  which  held  the 
limb  having  been  loosed  in  readiness  for  the  occasion,  at  the  first 
tug  the  wretched  boatman  rolled  over  on  the  mats  with  the  leg  in 
his  hands.  With  a  wild  yell  he  dashed  out  of  the  house  and  dis¬ 
appeared  into  the  bush,  where  he  remained  for  some  days  fearful 
that  he  had  seriously  injured  one  of  the  wonderful  white  turang-a. 

A  friend  who  read  the  manuscript  of  this  suggests  that  I  may  be 
thought  guilty  of  plagiarism,  as  Sir  Rider  Haggard  has  told  us  in 
King  Solomon's  Mines  how  the  “  dignified  crowd  of  Kukuanas  gave 
a  simultaneous  yell  of  horror,  and  bolted  back  ”  at  the  sight  of 
Good’s  false  teeth.  In  the  parody  King  Solomon's  Wives ,  by  Hyder 
Ragged,  the  following  occurs  :  “  ‘  We  will  give  them  a  wigging  !  ’ 
I  cried,  hastily  dancing  on  my  peruke,  and,  unscrewing  my  cork  leg, 
I  waved  it  defiantly  in  the  air.” 

The  editions  of  both  these  books  that  I  have  consulted  are  dated 


Church  &  State  147 

1887.  The  episode  of  Mr.  Langham’s  teeth  happened  in  the  early 
’seventies,  and  that  of  the  leg  in  1870.  In  1871  the  owner  of  the 
latter  commanded  the  first  Mba  Expedition,  in  which  I  served.  We 
managed  to  get  him  to  the  scene  of  action  on  an  old  grey  horse, 
and  it  has  been  a  continued  subject  of  wonder  to  me  that  we  ever 
got  the  animal  through  that  rugged,  broken  country.  He  made  a 
splendid  target,  but  the  musketry  of  the  kai  Tholo  was  defective 
and  the  only  casualty  on  our  side  was  that  our  commander  broke  his 
cork  leg  off  just  above  the  ankle  in  leading  the  charge  at  Thumbu. 
I  remember  that  when  we  got  him  hoisted  on  to  his  charger  again 
the  foot  of  the  cork  leg  hung  down  dangling,  just  held  by  a  shied 
of  leather. 

To  appreciate  the  desperate  fright  of  a  Fijian  upon  such  an  occur¬ 
rence  one  should  know  something  of  the  untutored  state  in  which 
they  were  in  those  days.  One  of  the  inland  people  told  me  what 
happened  when  the  first  Wesleyan  native  teacher  got  established  in 
one  of  the  upper  Wainimala  villages.  Amongst  his  possessions  was  a 
small  clock.  Shortly  after  his  arrival  an  old  cannibal  from  further 
inland  turned  up.  It  was  about  midday  when  he  arrived,  when  the 
village  was  empty  through  the  inhabitants  being  away  in  the  bush  at 
their  food  plantation.  According  to  custom,  he  entered  the  first 
house  that  took  his  fancy,  which  happened  to  be  the  teacher’s.  There 
on  the  big  wooden  box,  the  principal  article  of  furniture,  was  the 
clock  steadily  and  solemnly  clicking.  The  old  chap  stared  at  it  open- 
mouthed,  then  he  crouched  on  the  mats  and  looked  at  it  first  from 
one  side  and  then  from  another.  The  raconteur  used  to  mimic  the 
whole  scene  to  me.  Then  with  a  yell  he  bounded  out,  loudly  pro¬ 
claiming  that  he  was  not  going  to  stay  in  a  bewitched  house  contain¬ 
ing  a  devil  which  never  left  off  talking. 

One  result  of  being  within  the  diocese  or  circuit  of  the  President 
of  the  Wesleyan  Mission  was  that  all  the  subordinate  native  clergy 
were  the  flower  of  the  flock  and  the  pick  of  the  training  institutions, 
and  were  principally  members  of  chiefly  families — Fijian  gentlemen, 
in  fact.  They  were  decidedly  a  fine  lot  of  men,  and  maintained  a 
much  higher  status  of  life  than  the  ordinary  people.  Their  houses 
were  cleaner  and  neater,  and  they  had  better  ideas  of  cookery.  As 
a  rule,  during  my  travels  I  put  up  with  the  head  men,  but  in  some 
of  the  villages  where  the  accommodation  was  doubtful  I  used  to  seek 
refuge  at  the  pastor’s.  About  four  miles  further  up  the  Wainimala 
from  Vunindawa  was  Nairukuruku,  the  seat  of  the  native  minister 
in  charge  of  part  of  my  province,  one  of  those  whom  I  have  likened 
unto  Archdeacons.  For  the  time  that  I  was  in  Tholo  East,  Ratu 


148  Church  &  State 

Jona  Uluinatheva  (The  Crown  of  the  South)  was  the  gentleman 
there.  He  was  a  chief  of  high  rank  from  the  island  of  Kandavu, 
in  the  southern  portion  of  the  group,  a  particularly  fine  man,  and 
we  visited  each  other  frequently.  He  had  a  small  preparatory  school 
where  aspirants  for  the  ministry  received  their  preliminary  training. 
Order  and  discipline  were  combined  with  good  native  customs,  and 
the  students  whilst  being  educated  were  self-supporting,  maintained 
their  own  food  supply  and  kept  their  houses  neat  and  tidy.  When 
I  got  hipped  and  bored  by  the  life  on  the  station  I  would  frequently 
go  over  to  Nairukuruku  and  spend  the  day.  Sometimes  when  naval 
officers  and  others  visited  me  I  took  them  over  there  to  hear  the 
student  choir  sing  Moody  and  Sankey’s  hymns.  We  used  to  ride  over 
and  return  by  water  for  the  sake  of  the  fun  of  canoe  travelling, 
shooting  the  rapids  and  getting  a  pot  at  the  ducks.  Ratu  Jona’s  wife 
was  an  excellent  cook,  and  generally  regaled  her  guests  with  savoury 
dishes  of  chickens  stewed  with  yams  and  shallots. 

My  immediate  clerical  neighbour  was  Esava  Kombiti,  the  V akatawa 
or  catechist  at  Nakorovatu,  the  village  adjoining  Vunindawa.  He 
was  a  chief  from  the  island  of  Gau  and  a  very  fine  fellow.  Con¬ 
jointly  we  translated  Arthur’s  History  of  England  into  Fijian,  which 
up  to  the  time  of  my  leaving  was  being  used  in  the  Wesleyan  schools. 

These  neighbours  often  used  to  drop  in  at  Vunindawa,  and  from 
their  conversations  I  got  much  valuable  insight  into  native  life  and 
their  way  of  regarding  the  Bible,  which  with  Pilgrim’s  Progress  were 
the  only  books  in  the  vernacular,  and  their  sole  stock  of  literature  in 
those  days.  Living  with  primitive  people  like  the  Fijians  made  it 
easier  to  understand  the  early  patriarchal  institutions  of  Biblical 
history.  Circumcision  and  the  presentation  of  children  to  their  deity 
and  their  naming  has  much  in  common  with  the  usages  of  Judaism. 

Sunday  after  Sunday  I  attended  the  native  services  and  listened  to 
many  sermons.  The  Fijians  are  very  eloquent  and  poetical  in  their 
diction.  Having  with  one  bound  jumped  from  their  own  piimitive 
conditions  into  our  present  day  civilisation,  they  did  not  under¬ 
stand  the  gradation  of  history.  On  one  occasion  I  marched  my 
men  from  Nandarivatu  to  Rakiraki  to  meet  the  Commissioner  of 
Native  Affairs,  who  is  now  Sir  William  Allardyce,  K.C.M.G.,  the 
present  Governor  of  Tasmania.  He  came  to  install  the  Roko  or 
native  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  Ra  Province,  and  we  to  provide 
the  guard  of  honour  and  to  afford  a  background  of  the  pomp  and 
circumstance  of  military  array.  The  Sunday  before  the  ceremony 
the  native  minister  of  the  district  held  service  and  preached  to  us 
in  the  Rakiraki  Court  House.  The  subject  of  his  discourse  was  the 


Church  &  State  149 

death  of  Absalom.  The  description  of  his  life  was  set  forth  in 
eloquent  and  romantic  language,  and  his  high  birth  and  lineage 
descanted  on.  Not  only  was  he  the  son  of  a  King,  but  his  mother 
in  her  own  right  was  also  of  royal  rank.  (Owing  to  polygamy,  Fijians 
assume  the  maternal  status,  generally  speaking.)  Therefore  he  was 
a  chief  of  chiefs  and  the  handsomest  man  in  Israel,  whose  long  locks 
were  polled  but  once  a  year.  “  Just  fancy,”  said  the  preacher, 
“  what  would  have  happened  then  had  he  been  one  of  us — what 
feasting,  merrymaking,  running  of  foot  races  and  bouts  at  wrestling 
for  rich  prizes  there  would  have  been  !  But,  alas  !  how  sad  was  his 
end,  for  we  now  come  to  the  time  when  Absalom  was  discovered 
caught  in  the  boughs  of  the  oak.  Then  up  came  Joab,  the  captain 
of  the  host,  who  slew  him  with  three  small  darts.  My  friends,  they 
must  have  had  some  hidden  meaning  which  we  do  not  understand, 
for  how  much  easier  it  would  have  been  to  have  picked  up  a  Martini- 
Henry  and  shot  him  !  ” 

We  to  whom  he  was  holding  forth  were  armed  with  that  weapon, 
and  the  allusion  was  partly  intended  as  a  delicate  compliment  to  our 
might  and  prowess.  Fijians  love,  too,  euphony  and  words  that  have 
a  pleasant  jingle,  and  Matene-Anare,  as  they  pronounce  the  name  of 
that  rifle,  has  that  quality  to  them. 

On  another  occasion  I  heard  a  sermon  on  the  death  of  the  son  of 
the  widow  of  Nain.  “  What  grief  that  poor  woman  must  have 
had  !  ”  said  the  expounder  of  the  discourse.  “  And  I  think  that  we 
may  take  it  for  granted  that  he  was  a  good  boy  and  never  made 
trouble  when  he  was  told  to  boil  the  kettle  for  tea.” 


CHAPTER  XV 


Home  Rule 

THE  Resident  Commissioner,  almost  immediately  upon  my 
appointment  as  his  Assistant,  shot  me  into  the  midst  of 
affairs.  It  was  supposed  that  he  would  always  come  up 
to  hold  the  Provincial  Councils,  the  little  parliaments 
which  regulated  our  local  affairs.  However,  his  work  on  the  Lands 
Commission  and  in  the  courts  on  the  Lower  Rewa  was  growing 
daily,  and  he  passed  on  to  me  as  much  of  the  administrative  details 
in  Tholo  as  he  could.  Within  two  months  of  my  being  gazetted  he 
directed  me  to  hold  the  Provincial  Council  in  his  stead.  This  was  a 
bit  difficult  for  me,  as  natives  never  show  the  same  respect  for  under¬ 
strappers  as  they  do  for  the  principal,  rather  do  they  strive  to  make 
the  latter’s  life  a  burden.  On  plantations  Fijian  labourers  are  fairly 
amenable  to  their  master,  but  they  worry  and  harry  the  overseers  to 
the  utmost  of  their  ability.  There  was  a  shipping  firm  in  Suva  who 
employed  a  large  gang  of  natives  for  cargo  work.  The  man  in  charge 
was  fortunately  a  tough  old  salt,  who  knew  how  to  use  his  hands. 
Fijians  are  not  allowed  to  sign  on  for  more  than  a  year.  Frequently 
it  is  for  shorter  periods,  and  men  are  always  coming  and  going. 
Whenever  a  new  lot  arrived,  each  morning  at  roll-call  a  chosen 
champion  would  step  forth  and  challenge  the  boso,  their  adaptation 
of  our  boss,  a  word  which  pleases  them,  to  fight.  The  challengers 
had  strength  but  not  science,  whilst  the  defender  had  both.  This 
went  on  until  all  the  fancy  men  had  been  stretched  out,  after  which 
they  became  obedient  servants,  tacitly  admitting  the  right  of  con¬ 
quest.  Of  course,  they  never  could  treat  me  in  that  way,  as,  to  use 
one  of  their  own  expressions,  I  was  one  that  could  bite,  and  in  the 
Courts  could  inflict  exemplary  punishments.  In  a  way  I  had  to  be 
reckoned  with,  but  still,  if  there  was  a  chance  of  thwarting  me 
legally  they  would  do  so.  I  once  wanted  to  get  some  of  the  people 
to  do  a  little  mail-carrying.  They  refused  in  a  letter  in  which  they 
rudely  remarked  that  I  did  not  understand  them,  but  that  Mr.  Carew 
did.  When  I  went  on  promotion  to  Tholo  North  as  Resident  Com- 

150 


Home  Rule  1 5 1 

missioner,  and  then,  in  addition,  received  Tholo  East  on  Mr.  Carew’s 
retirement,  I  was  given  full  honours,  including  the  tama ,  the  divine 
acclamation  accorded  to  the  incarnation  of  the  ancestral  god. 
Secretly  in  my  own  mind  I  was  rather  astounded  at  having  achieved 
such  an  awful  greatness.  But  the  way  of  the  underling  is  hard. 
Afterwards,  when  I  had  the  command  of  a  party  of  the  A.N.C.,  our 
garrison  inland,  although  my  orders  were  hardly  ever  gainsaid,  the 
men  made  it  as  hard  as  they  could  for  the  subalterns. 

There  is  a  curious  mixture  of  extreme  veneration  and  latent  covert 
insolence  in  the  Fijian.  They  revere  the  Governor  as  their  supreme 
chief  and  the  representative  of  the  Sovereign,  who  is  the  divine 
incarnation  and  exponent  of  the  soul  of  the  nation.  When  Queen 
Victoria  died  an  old  chief  said  to  me,  “  Is  she  really  dead  ;  we  always 
thought  of  her  as  a  goddess  who  could  never  die.  When  I  was  a  boy 
my  father  told  me  of  her  and  lo  !  I  am  old  and  near  the  grave  now, 
yet  all  my  life  have  I  heard  of  her  power  and  might,  and  we  said  to 
ourselves  death  can  never  claim  that  divine  lady  and  she  will  live 
for  ever  !  ”  This  extreme  regard  for  the  chiefly  office  is  characteristic 
of  the  Polynesian  races.  I  read  in  the  reminiscences  of  one  of  the 
Australian  magistrates  that  in  the  riots  on  the  gold  diggings  in  the 
middle  of  the  last  century  about  the  mining  licences  there  were  eighty 
Maoris  at  Bendigo.  They  rallied  round  the  resident  magistrate  and 
told  him  that  they  were  true  men  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  if  there 
was  going  to  be  any  trouble  they  were  on  his  side.  Notwithstanding 
this  deep  regard  for  authority,  the  Fijian  cannot  help  indulging 
in  his  love  of  humour  and  fun.  Sir  William  Des  Voeux,  the  second 
of  our  Governors,  was  held  by  the  native  in  the  greatest  legard  and 
awe.  He  was  a  fine,  handsome  man,  and  maintained  a  certain  amount 
of  state,  a  factor  which  counts  for  a  lot  in  dealing  with  primitive 
races.  Once  when  he  was  en  grande  tenue ,  in  full  Windsor  uniform, 
a  Fijian  lady,  gasping  with  admiration,  was  heard  to  say,  “  Oh  !  look 
at  the  Governor,  is  he  not  beautiful ;  what  lovely  breeches  ;  he  is 
just  like  a  splendid  fighting  cock  !  ”  Yet  on  one  occasion  a  lot  of 
little  boys  poked  fun  at  him.  He  was  on  a  visit  to  the  royal  city  of 
Mbau,  which  is  situated  on  a  small  islet,  the  houses  clustered  round 
small  grassy  squares  and  intersected  by  narrow  paths  and  wynds. 
It  is  kept  scrupulously  clean  and  neat  and  one  can  walk  about  without 
encountering  anything  offensive.  Sir  William  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening  was  sauntering  about  to  stretch  his  legs  and  get  fresh  air. 
The  naughty  little  boys  had  found  out  that  he  was  shortsighted  and 
very  polite,  and  always  took  his  hat  off  when  the  people  greeted  him 
with  the  tama.  So  a  number  of  them  laid  in  wait  for  him  and  gave 


Home  Rule 


152 

the  loudest  tama  they  were  capable  of.  It  was  repaid  with  a  sweeping 
and  courteous  bow.  Then  the  young  rascals  took  a  short  cut  to  the 
next  turning  and  repeated  their  trick,  and  followed  him  about  from 
place  to  place  with  the  same  game  until  he  had  finished  his  exercise. 

To  use  familiar  slang  it  was  a  tremendous  piece  of  cheek,  and  could 
only  have  been  practised  on  a  shortsighted  man  and  one  un¬ 
acquainted  with  native  customs.  In  Mbau,  Rewa  and  the  chief 
southern  districts  the  compliment  of  the  tama  is  not  paid  after 
midday  and  never  by  children  such  as  those  who  followed  the 
Governor  about.  Its  observance  is  much  governed  by  local  tradition 
and  varies  a  good  deal  in  the  different  districts. 

The  first  time  I  went  over  to  hold  a  Provincial  Council  in  Tholo 
East,  after  I  had  become  the  full-blown  Commissioner  theie,  the 
night  before  it  a  deputation  of  the  elders  came  to  instruct  me  as  to 
etiquette.  I  was  not  to  enter  the  Council  House  until  all  the  notabili¬ 
ties  and  representatives  of  the  province  had  assembled.  Then  I  was 
to  appear  and  be  acclaimed  by  the  tama.  Then  the  head  native 
minister,  who  would  be  waiting  in  attendance,  would  say  a  short 
prayer,  which  was  to  be  followed  by  a  ceremonious  drinking  of  kava 
or  yangona,  rendered  with  full  musical  honours  by  the  old  time  chants 
handed  down  from  bygone  generations. 

After  having  learnt  their  part  of  the  education,  I  had  to  teach 
mine,  which  was  principally  to  try  and  prevent  everybody  from  all 
speaking  together  at  one  and  the  same  time.  However,  with  patience 
and  perseverance  I  succeeded  after  many  years  in  getting  a  regular 
ordei  of  procedure  observed.  To  compare  great  things  with  small  the 
Commissioner  opened  with  a  speech,  which  may  be  likened  unto 
that  from  the  throne  upon  the  opening  of  our  own  Parliament. 
One  of  the  leading  chiefs  would  uli  this,  or  accept  it,  in  the  name  of 
the  assembly,  after  which  all  present  acclaimed  it  by  a  measured 
clapping  of  hands.  The  names  of  the  different  districts  had  pre¬ 
viously  been  written  on  slips  of  paper  which  were  folded  up  and 
shuffled.  The  Mbuli,  or  head  man,  of  the  district  whose  slip  was 
first  drawn  would  then  make  his  report.  It  was  done  in  this  fashion 
to  prevent  the  people  of  a  district  giving  themselves  airs  of  precedence 
through  their  chief  having  been  chosen  by  the  Commissioner  to  speak 
first,  and  it  was  ostentatiously  shown  that  it  was  drawn  for  by  lots. 
The  Mbuli  would  state  that  the  mortality  records,  the  births,  deaths 
and  marriages  were  duly  and  properly  kept,  and  give  the  figures.  He 
would  also  give  the  condition  of  the  roads,  crops,  etc.  The  difficulty 
was  when  a  man  was  speaking  to  keep  bursting  patriots  from  breaking 
in  with  their  own  pet  projects.  But  after  a  while  it  was  established 


Home  Rule  153 

as  a  rule  that  whilst  we  were  discussing  the  affairs  of  a  particular 
district  the  debate  should  be  confined  to  that  area,  and  that  anyone 
who  had  a  grievance  or  a  scheme  in  connection  with  it  could  air  it 
then.  Before  I  left  we  had  quite  established  a  regular  small  parlia¬ 
mentary  procedure. 

This  little  form  of  Home  Rule  was  a  great  safety  valve,  and  afforded 
opportunities  of  explaining  away  grievances  and  of  giving  the  people 
the  chance  of  letting  off  steam.  The  holding  of  these  Councils 
was  always  an  anxious  time,  and  I  felt  very  thankful  when  they  were 
over  and  that  I  had  managed  to  steer  clear  of  the  rocks.  At  the  same 
time  I  generally  got  a  good  deal  of  quiet  amusement  from  them. 
Finance,  of  course,  was  a  thorny  subject.  We  had  the  right  to  levy 
annually  a  rate  from  each  able-bodied  man  with  which  to  pay  the 
village  police,  the  district  scribes  and  office  expenses.  Two  shillings 
was  the  assessment  made  in  the  beginning,  and  any  endeavour  to 
increase  it  afterwards  was  denounced  as  unconstitutional.  At  nearly 
every  Council  some  ardent  patriot  would  get  up  and  say  that  the 
village  police  and  the  native  clerical  staff  were  shamefully  and 
inadequately  paid  and  that  their  emoluments  should  be  increased. 
Everybody  agreed  as  to  this,  but  I  could  not  get  them  to  understand 
that  if  they  granted  enhanced  pay  they  would  also  have  to  provide 
for  it  by  contributing  a  much  larger  rate.  No,  every  man  had  paid 
two  shillings  ;  it  was  an  enormous  sum  when  collected  together  and 
duly  lodged  in  the  kato  ni  yasana  (provincial  cash-box)  and  a  never- 
failing  source  of  wealth,  and  it  must  suffice  for  everything.  It  was 
a  yearly  wrestle,  and  at  one  meeting  I  said  I  was  tired  of  explaining 
the  matter  to  them,  and  after  once  more  going  over  the  ground  of 
how  Tui  V eretania  (the  King  of  Britain)  when  he  wanted  money 
with  which  to  carry  on  the  Government  appealed  to  his  faithful 
Commons,  I  retired,  leaving  the  matter  in  the  hands  of  a  committee 
which  we  had  appointed  to  deal  with  it.  Their  decision  was  subse¬ 
quently  reported  by  a  hoary-headed  old  sinner,  who  had  a  great 
knowledge  of  the  local  jails.  He  addressed  me  thus  :  “  Sir,  I 
altogether  object  to  paying  extra  taxes  to  increase  the  pay  of  the 
man  who  takes  me  to  jail  !  ” 

The  people  of  the  Tholo  North  Province  were  very  docile,  but 
not  so  vigorous  and  intelligent  as  those  of  Tholo  East.  The  latter 
were  my  free  and  independent  electors  and  usually  heckled  me  when 
we  met  in  council.  But  they  were  good  men  and  true,  and  what 
resolutions  they  passed  in  the  way  of  voluntary  road-making,  house¬ 
building  for  Government  purposes,  etc.,  they  adhered  to.  I  was 
keenly  zealous  for  the  welfare  of  the  people,  and  sometimes  in  my 


154  Home  Rule 

impatience  I  was  tempted  to  play  the  part  of  the  beneficent  despot. 
On  such  occasions  I  hardly  prevailed ;  the  matter  might  be  for  the 
general  good,  but  it  had  been  ordered  arbitrarily  without  the  sanction 
of  the  faithful  Commons. 

Sir  George  O’Brien,  who  was  our  Governor  from  1897  to  1902, 
was  a  capable  and  energetic  administrator  and  a  great  financier. 
He  it  was  who  discovered  that  Fiji  was  not  the  poor  Colony  it  had 
hitherto  been  supposed  to  be,  and  that  there  were  large  funds  avail¬ 
able,  locked  up  somewhat  obscurely.  We  in  the  service  looked  upon 
him  as  a  great  benefactor,  as  through  him  we  were  at  last  able  to  get 
a  little  money  for  road-making,  transport,  etc.  But  we  quite  forgot 
that  it  was  through  Sir  John  Thurston,  his  predecessor,  we  had  saved 
money.  He  came  to  the  helm  in  1888,  when  through  the  German 
sugar  bounties  the  Colony  was  at  its  last  gasp.  His  careful  economies 
pulled  us  round,  and  after  his  regime  of  nine  years  we  became  a 
flourishing  community. 

Personally  I  feel  under  many  obligations  to  Sir  George  O’Brien, 
but  it  seems  to  me,  now  many  years  afterwards  and  after  much 
reflection,  that  he  did  not  allow  for  public  sentiment,  either  British 
or  Fijian.  He  was  great  on  sanitary  reforms  and  the  increased  wel¬ 
fare  of  the  natives.  It  had  always  been  a  reproach  that  the  Fijians 
were  slowly  dying  out,  and  he  was  determined  that  that  should  cease. 
The  mortality  was  principally  amongst  the  infant  population,  due 
largely  to  defective  nutrition.  So  we  in  charge  of  districts  were 
ordered  to  arrange  that  the  people  should  buy  cows  and  that  the 
women  should  be  instructed  in  the  use  of  feeding-bottles.  In  a 
previous  chapter  it  has  been  mentioned  how  they  revolted.  For  a 
while  we  managed  to  keep  the  cows  going  and  the  milk  distributed, 
but  it  meant  too  steady  and  constant  application,  altogether  out  of 
keeping  with  the  Fijian  bent.  This  phase  of  the  reforms  died  out 
from  sheer  fatigue  on  our  part  to  keep  it  going.  The  other  measures 
prevailed  in  time  to  a  fair  extent,  and  whether  owing  to  them  or 
not  the  vital  statistics  now  show  a  slight  increase  of  births  over  deaths. 

We  were  all  infected  with  the  Governor’s  enthusiasm,  and  between 
us  we  worried  the  natives  pretty  considerably  and  the  reforms  got 
on  their  nerves.  One  of  my  predecessors’  favourite  stories  was  that 
when  he  had  won  over  the  people  of  his  province  and  had  persuaded 
them  to  abjure  cannibalism  and  range  themselves,  they  stipulated 
that  nothing  should  be  done  to  startle  them,  and  the  authorities 
should  go  slow.  Under  the  new  regime  we  were  daily  stirring  them 
up  and  causing  resentment.  Not  to  any  very  serious  extent,  but 
when  Sir  George  left  us  I  summed  up  the  situation  thus :  Sir  John 


Home  Rule  155 

Thurston  had  left  the  people  actively  loyal,  and  his  successor  passively 
disloyal. 

In  1900  the  great  Mr.  Seddon,  the  Premier  of  New  Zealand,  made 
a  voyage  to  the  South  Seas  in  one  of  the  Dominion  yachts.  Has  it 
not  been  recorded  in  a  volume  issued  by  the  official  Press,  illustrated 
by  many  beautiful  photographs  all  done  at  the  public  charge,  regard¬ 
less  of  expense  ?  Not  only  did  he  visit  the  islands  which  come  under 
the  sway  of  New  Zealand,  but  also  Tonga  and  Fiji.  Our  white 
community  was  then  very  dissatisfied  with  the  form  of  government, 
that  of  a  Crown  Colony  of  a  severe  type.  Whether  it  emanated  from 
Mr.  Seddon  or  from  the  inhabitants  I  do  not  know,  but  the  question 
of  the  annexation  of  Fiji  to  New  Zealand  was  raised  at  that  time. 
The  illustrious  visitor  was  entertained  at  a  public  dinner,  at  the 
conclusion  of  which  his  enthusiastic  hosts  took  the  horses  out  of  his 
carriage  and  dragged  it  to  the  wharf,  where  the  boat  was  lying  in 
which  he  returned  to  the  yacht. 

Shortly  afterwards  Sir  George  O’Brien  opened  a  hospital  built 
on  the  Lower  Rewa  for  native  use.  There  was  a  great  gathering  with 
the  usual  drinking  of  yangona  and  much  feasting  more  Fijiensi,  at 
which  the  Governor  made  a  speech.  In  it  he  warned  the  people  that 
under  New  Zealand,  in  all  probability  their  proprietary  rights  in 
their  lands  would  not  be  so  scrupulously  respected  as  it  had  been 
under  the  direct  government  of  the  Crown.  It  was  an  injudicious 
speech  and  brought  a  swarm  of  hornets  about  the  Governor’s  devoted 
head  in  the  shape  of  counter-attacks  from  the  local  disaffected  and 
fiery  rejoinders  from  the  Great  Dick,  as  the  New  Zealand  Premier 
was  familiarly  known.  He  was  just  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  popu¬ 
larity,  both  with  his  own  people  and  at  home.  It  was  the  time  of 
our  fiercest  stress  in  South  Africa,  and  New  Zealand  was  sending 
contingents,  splendidly  mounted  and  equipped,  to  the  scene  of 
action,  and  Mr.  Seddon,  the  dynamo  that  set  them  going,  carried 
too  many  guns  for  Sir  George. 

The  consequences  of  the  speech  did  not  become  immediately 
evident,  and  the  Governor  continued  his  campaign.  A  circular  was 
issued  to  the  Commissioners  directing  them  to  lay  the  matter  before 
their  respective  Provincial  Councils  and  ascertain  the  views  of  the 
natives.  It  was  shortly  before  I  had  arranged  to  hold  the  annual 
meetings  in  Tholo  North  and  Tholo  East.  The  former  was  the  first 
to  assemble  and  I  duly  carried  out  my  instructions.  The  people 
passed  a  resolution  stating  their  confidence  in  the  present  form  of 
government,  disclaimed  any  desire  of  joining  New  Zealand,  and 
altogether  were  demonstratively  loyal  and  affectionate. 


Home  Rule 


J56 

Then  I  went  over  to  Tholo  East  for  the  Council  there.  The  night 
before  it  met,  one  of  my  sage  mentors,  Simon,  the  chief  of  the  clan 
known  as  the  Children  of  the  Hills,  who  many  and  many  a  time  by 
his  wise  advice  had  helped  me  in  tangled  native  customs,  came  to  my 
quarters.  His  object  was  to  prepare  me  for  a  rebuff.  He  said,  “  You 
are  going  to  be  disappointed  to-morrow,  sir  ;  the  people  are  going  to 
vote  for  annexation  to  New  Zealand.  The  young  men  have  so  deter¬ 
mined,  and  we  elders  as  their  spokesmen  will  have  to  vote  in  accord¬ 
ance  with  their  wishes.  I  do  not  want  to  do  so  myself,  but  I  shall 
have  to  go  with  the  crowd.  Why  has  the  Government  given  this 
chance  to  our  youths  ?  They  always  have  a  grievance  of  some  sort 
or  other  and  perpetually  grumble.  But  it  is  like  a  wind  that  comes 
and  blows  away  and  shortly  gets  forgotten  altogether.  But  now  an 
opportunity  of  flouting  you  has  been  given  and  they  will  avail  them¬ 
selves  of  it.” 

Our  Council  that  year  was  held  at  Mburenitu,  the  head  village  of 
the  Sautoka  clan,  on  the  Wainimbuka.  As  predicted  by  Simon  all 
the  head  men  voted  for  annexation  to  New  Zealand,  with  the  excep¬ 
tion  of  the  chief  of  the  Sautoka,  who  was  my  host.  By  arrangement 
with  his  brother  peers  he  ranged  himself  on  my  side,  as  I  was  his 
guest,  and  it  was  but  courteous  to  give  me  all  hospitality.  I  felt  hurt, 
but  after  the  resolution  had  been  duly  recorded  the  rest  of  the  busi¬ 
ness  on  the  agenda  was  satisfactorily  got  through. 

There  certainly  was  about  that  time  a  good  deal  of  unrest  and 
dissatisfaction.  It  would  be  too  long  to  give  the  causes  in  detail, 
but  the  principal  reason  was  the  undue  zeal  with  which  sanitary 
reforms  were  pressed.  Pork  and  the  rearing  of  pigs  for  its  production 
is  one  of  the  chief  joys  of  Fijian  life.  Mr.  Carew  had  instituted  a 
system  whereby  the  swine  were  kept  out  of  the  villages,  but  suffi¬ 
ciently  close  to  be  accessible,  by  enclosing  a  considerable  piece  of 
land  immediately  adjacent.  Prior  to  Sir  George  O’Brien’s  period 
we  had  rather  prided  ourselves  on  the  neatness  and  cleanliness  of  the 
Tholo  East  villages.  But  it  was  not  good  enough  for  the  new  reform¬ 
ers.  An  order  was  issued  that  all  pigs  must  be  kept  in  sties  some 
distance  away.  In  disgust  the  people  slaughtered  the  bulk  of  their 
animals,  and  consequently  very  considerably  diminished  their  supply 
of  flesh  food.  I  ventured  to  remonstrate  and  say  that  I  thought  the 
evils  arising  from  the  want  of  it  would  outweigh  any  sanitary  advan¬ 
tages  derived  from  the  banishment  of  the  unclean  beasts.  I  said, 
also,  that  interfering  with  the  pigs  was  tantamount  in  England  to 
robbing  a  poor  man  of  his  beer.  It  was  just  about  the  time  of  the 
scandal  at  home  of  the  adulteration  with  arsenic  of  the  national 


Home  Rule 


157 

drink.  The  Commissioner  for  Native  Affairs,  who  was  a  courtier,  made 
a  marginal  note  to  my  report  intended  to  be  funny,  to  the  effect 
that  native  pork  might  be  reckoned  in  the  same  category  as  arsenical 
beer.  The  Governor  capped  it  by  congratulating  him  on  his  bon  mot. 
So  all  that  I  got  for  attempting  to  set  forth  the  popular  cause  was  a 
snubbing.  Just  before  I  submitted  my  view  of  the  question  I  heard 
two  old  Fijians  discussing  it.  “  Pigs,”  said  one,  “  whoever  sees  a  fat 
pig  now  ?  They  are  ashen-coloured,  lean  and  gaunt.”  “  What  can 
you  expect,”  replied  the  other,  “  with  the  Government  poking  their 
nose  into  everything  ?  How  can  you  get  a  fat  pig  if  he  is  not  kept 
close  by  where  daily  you  can  give  him  the  household  refuse  ?  And 
now  he  is  banished  far  away  into  the  bush.” 

The  next  Governor  had  not  sanitation  as  his  hobby,  and  although 
all  reforms  were  maintained  as  far  as  possible  they  were  not  pressed 
with  such  red-hot  zeal,  and  festina  lente  once  more  became  the  order 
of  the  day,  and  with  it  the  natives  recovered  their  equanimity  and 
good  nature. 

Sir  Arthur  Gordon,  our  first  Governor,  instituted  our  small  system 
of  Home  Rule,  which  was  quite  in  accordance  with  ancient  Fijian 
polity.  Although  the  natives  have  only  minor  legislative  powers, 
such  as  they  possess  have  tended  to  keep  them  quiet  and  contented. 

For  the  purpose  of  native  administration  there  are  seventeen 
provinces  in  Fiji.  Some  are  presided  over  by  white  Commissioners 
and  some  by  Roko  Tui  or  native  Lieutenant-Governors.  The 
provinces  are  subdivided  into  districts  controlled  by  Mbuli  or  native 
head  men.  These  latter  hold  their  councils  every  two  or  three 
months  and  forward  the  minutes  to  the  head  of  the  province,  which 
keeps  him  in  touch  with  even  the  smallest  details  of  local  affairs. 
Then  annually  the  Provincial  Council  meets,  the  proceedings  being 
duly  reported  to  the  Governor,  and  it  is  the  vehicle  by  which  he  is 
kept  informed  of  native  opinion  and  of  those  things  which  they 
consider  to  be  of  pressing  importance  ;  in  fact,  the  burning  questions 
of  the  moment. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  of  the  colonists  and  even  of  many  of  the 
officials  to  regard  these  little  local  parliaments  as  huge  jokes,  but  it 
is  probably  they  which  have  kept  the  Fijians  so  loyal.  I  was  going  to 
say  contented  and  loyal,  but  then,  who  ever  is  the  former  ?  As  my 
friend  Simon  of  the  Children  of  the  Hills  said,  there  is  always  a  wind 
ruffling  the  surface,  and  his  countrymen,  like  ourselves,  are  born 
grumblers. 

There  is  always  much  feasting,  merrymaking,  drinking  of  yangona 
and  performances  of  elaborate  dances  at  the  meetings  of  the  Provincial 


158  Home  Rule 

Councils.  Consequently  they  are  much  looked  forward  to.  They  are 
expensive,  but  that  item  is  overcome  in  our  happy-go-lucky,  com¬ 
munal  way.  At  each  annual  meeting  it  is  arranged  that  such  and  such 
districts  shall  prepare  the  food  and  lodgings  required  for  the  next, 
and  thus  the  venue  is  shifted  all  over  the  Province  and  considerable 
intervals  occur  before  it  is  held  in  the  same  place  again.  No  ready 
money  is  required  ;  it  is  simply  a  matter  of  growing  sufficient 
quantities  of  yams,  dalo  and  yangona,  this  latter  being  the  native 
equivalent  for  our  beer  and  whisky.  Pigs,  too,  have  to  be  bred  to 
provide  that  which  is  represented  in  England  by  the  roast  beef.  All 
this  stimulates  industry  and  tends  to  the  general  welfare. 

Feasting  and  the  merrymaking  appeal  much  more  to  the  Fijians 
than  legislating.  The  Councils  used  to  drag  along  for  weeks,  and  the 
old  minute  books  frequently  bore  this  entry  :  “  The  Council  now 
adjourns  for  feasting  and  dancing.”  Gradually  economic  pressure 
cut  down  the  time  to  a  couple  of  days,  and  the  Commissioners  ruth¬ 
lessly  stuck  to  necessary  business.  But  one  cannot  work  all  the  time, 
and  there  must  be  intervals  for  rest  and  food.  The  latter  is  generally 
ushered  in  and  presented  to  the  accompaniment  of  stately  dances, 
to  the  music  of  native  orchestras.  So,  still,  the  country  people 
anticipate  a  good  deal  of  fun  when  the  Councils  meet. 

When  the  papers  reached  us  and  we  used  to  read  of  the  stress  and 
turmoil  of  the  Irish  Home  Rule  question  in  the  days  of  Parnell,  I 
used  to  think  what  a  pity  our  Fijian  model  could  not  be  adapted  for 
the  distressful  country.  Why  not  have  councils  in  each  county  with 
potheen  instead  of  yangona ,  the  Fijian  national  drink,  and  potatoes 
for  yams.  As  for  My  Lord  the  Pig,  is  he  not  admired  and  loved  in 
both  countries  ?  Dancing,  too,  is  in  the  bones  of  each  people,  and 
much  steam  and  discontent  can  be  blown  off  by  vigorous  exercise. 
Why  not  have  little  local  parliaments  all  over  Ireland  where  the 
earnest-minded  and  the  patriots  could  ease  their  souls  by  a  plentiful 
flow  of  declamation,  and  the  frivolous  kill  dull  care  by  a  little  feasting 
and  merrymaking  f 


CHAPTER  XVI 


Fijian  Women 

CHERCHEZ  la  femme  holds  good  for  all  the  world,  and  the 
first  trouble  to  cross  my  path  arose  from  my  ignorance  of 
the  Fijian  ideas  on  the  subject.  It  occurred  at  the  very 
first  of  our  little  local  parliaments  at  which  I  was  called  to 
preside.  It  was  held  at  Waimbasang-a  (Branching  Waters)  where 
the  river  of  the  Great  Falls  joins  the  Wainimala  in  Lomai 
Tholo,  in  the  very  heart  of  Viti  Levu.  I  had  got  through  the 
Provincial  Council  all  right  and  was  pluming  myself  over  it.  It  was 
a  regular  family  gathering,  and  we  had  all  behaved  affectionately 
and  nicely  to  each  other.  It  was  in  December,  the  Fijian  summer, 
and  blazing  hot.  The  neat  little  Mbure  specially  built  for  me  stood 
on  the  little  promontory  overhanging  the  meeting  of  the  two  rivers. 
These  rapid  mountain  streams  splashing  and  foaming  over  the  rocks 
below  gave  a  pleasant  sense  of  freshness  and  coolness.  After  a  long, 
hot  day  in  the  Council  House  where  everybody  smoked  (I  always 
encouraged  the  use  of  tobacco  then,  as  it  tended  to  calm  the  nerves 
of  my  excitable  friends),  the  atmosphere  becoming  somewhat  spicy. 
I  had  retired  for  a  while  to  the  quiet  of  my  little  Mbure.  But  the 
Mbulis  of  the  different  districts  followed  me  thither  to  have  some 
little  informal  conversation  ere  we  all  sought  our  couches.  Not  long 
before  I  had  read  Burnaby’s  Ride  to  Khiva,  where  a  box  of  Cockle’s 
pills  is  recommended  as  part  of  the  travelling  equipment  in  far-away 
parts.  One  was  included  in  mine,  and  it  stood  on  the  table  in  my 
quarters  when  my  patriarchal  friends  came  to  visit  me.  After  the 
long,  hot  day  and  the  vitiated  state  of  the  air  in  the  Council  House 
I  suspected  my  liver  to  be  out  of  order,  and  thought  that  I  would 
try  Burnaby’s  prescription.  My  visitors  immediately  descried  the 
little  box  and  asked  what  it  was.  I  opened  it,  showed  the  contents 
and  added  that  it  was  medicine.  One  of  the  more  enlightened  said, 
“  Oh,  yes,  the  vunikau  (berries)  of  the  white  gentlemen  are  very 
efficacious.”  They  all  smiled,  looked  at  each  other  and  said  if  I  were 
going  to  take  some  they  would  like  to  do  so  also,  and  in  no  time  the 

i59 


160  Fijian  Women 

box  was  emptied.  I  am  just  mentioning  this  to  show  upon  what  ex¬ 
tremely  friendly  and  familiar  terms  we  were  ere  the  bomb  fell  which 
was  to  break  up  and  rupture  our  kindly  relations. 

Then  followed  the  Provincial  Court,  the  general  jail  delivery 
which  takes  place  every  three  months.  The  last  evening  arrived  and 
we  were  all  ready  to  depart  on  the  morrow  when  a  young  man  and  a 
girl  came  to  my  quarters.  The  former  told  me  that  he  was  a  stranger 
from  the  Lower  Rewa  and  was  a  Wesleyan  native  teacher  assigned 
to  one  of  our  hill  villages,  to  which  the  girl  belonged.  They  were 
in  love  with  each  other  and  desired  to  get  married,  but  could  not  as 
the  native  Stipendiary  Magistrate  refused  to  give  them  the  necessary 
licence.  Before  a  minister  of  religion  or  a  registrar  can  perform  the 
wedding  ceremony  such  document  must  be  produced  from  the 
native  legal  officer  of  the  district  in  which  the  parties  reside.  The 
European  magistrates  cannot  issue  them  but  were  registrars,  and 
could  perform  marriages  between  Fijians  after  the  issue  of  a  licence 
aforesaid.  It  was  a  recourse  for  the  people  when  the  religious  authori¬ 
ties  refused  to  solemnise  the  ceremony  from  reasons  of  dogma.  In 
such  instances  I  have  had  to  officiate,  but  I  never,  if  I  could  possibly 
help  it,  interfered  with  the  rights  of  the  Church. 

I  sent  a  message  round  to  my  native  colleague  to  ask  that  he  would 
come  and  see  me.  He  came  and  said,  yes,  it  was  quite  true  he  had 
refused  to  give  the  couple  a  licence.  I  asked  him  why  ;  but  he, 
dear,  good,  muddle-headed  old  chap,  could  give  no  reason.  He  was 
one  of  those  who  think  slowly,  but  I  had  not  then  known  him  six 
months,  and  was  unacquainted  with  his  disposition.  I  asked  him 
what  the  Lawa  Eso,  as  the  Native  Regulations  are  called,  provided, 
and  he  handed  me  his  copy  of  them.  There  I  saw  that  it  was  dis¬ 
tinctly  enacted  that  women  were  free  to  marry  whom  they  pleased, 
and  that  no  obstacle  was  to  be  placed  in  their  way.  I  therefore  told 
my  colleague  that  the  law  was  quite  clear,  and  directed  that  the 
licence  should  be  issued. 

I  think  that  secretly  the  native  magistrate  was  greatly  relieved. 
He  was  a  devout  Wesleyan  and  a  lay  preacher,  hand  in  glove  with 
the  native  Wesleyan  minister,  and  they  both  resided  at  Narokoro- 
koyawa,  the  chief  village  of  Noemalu,  about  three  miles  further  up 
the  Wainimala  from  where  we  were  holding  the  Council.  He  was 
desirous  that  the  teacher  should  wed  the  maiden,  but  fearful  of  the 
hubbub  it  would  create  in  the  clans  of  the  lady  and  her  fiance,  to 
whom  she  had  been  promised  from  her  babyhood  for  a  valuable  con¬ 
sideration.  So  I  was  left  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot. 

Early  the  next  morning  Vuthang-o,  the  Buli  of  Muaira,  in  whose 


Filling  the  Water  Pots. 


Hill  women  with  bamboos,  emblematic  of  their  sex,  drr.wing  water  frrm  the  river. 


Fijian  Women  161 

district  we  were,  came  into  my  quarters  with  a  gloomy  and  careworn 
aspect  and  bluntly  told  me  I  had  set  his  people  by  the  ears,  and  had 
taken  away  one  of  their  girls  and  given  her  to  a  stranger.  Then,  too, 
I  had  robbed  the  clan  of  the  young  man  to  whom  she  had  been  con¬ 
tracted,  and  generally  there  was  the  mischief  to  pay,  the  aggrieved 
parties  saying  they  would  take  refuge  in  some  other  province  where 
I  was  not  the  magistrate.  I  consoled  him  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
but  during  my  talk  fire  was  added  to  the  fuel  by  the  entry  of  a  man 
with  a  letter  in  a  large  official  envelope  prominently  marked 
“  O.H.M.S.”  It  was  the  resignation  of  Joram,  the  District  Scribe, 
and  the  Mbuli’s  right-hand  man.  He  belonged  to  one  of  the  injured 
clans ;  the  iron  had  entered  into  his  soul  and  he  had  shut  himself 
up  in  his  Mbure,  where  he  was  sulking  like  Achilles  after  the  loss  of 
Briseis.  I  had  indeed  raised  a  hornet’s  nest.  After  much  talking  I 
departed,  thinking  that  I  had  pacified  all  parties  without  going  back 
on  my  decision. 

The  happy  couple  went  up  to  Narokorokoyawa  and  were  duly 
made  one  by  the  native  minister.  Each  month  the  native  magis¬ 
trate  sent  his  Court  returns  to  me  for  revision.  This  was  done  to 
guard  against  illegal  sentences.  Shortly  after  this  little  storm  I 
noticed  in  them  that  he  had  condemned  a  number  of  girls  to  terms 
of  imprisonment  and  had  them  incarcerated  at  his  own  village,  an 
altogether  illegal  proceeding.  I  demanded  an  explanation,  and  he 
replied  that  the  women  at  Waimbasang-a  had  lampooned  him  in  a 
meke  or  song  about  the  teacher  and  the  girl.  His  scribe  wrote  the 
song  out  and  sent  it  to  me.  It  was  distinctly  libellous,  and,  although 
I  was  responsible  for  the  decision,  his  countrywomen  blamed  the 
Native  Magistrate ,  probably  because  I  was  too  high  game  to  fly  at. 

I  could  only  review  ;  the  power  of  reversion  lay  with  the  Resident 
Commissioner.  I  sent  the  District  Court  sheets  in  to  him.  As  the 
law  was  on  my  side,  my  decision  could  not  be  upset  ;  besides  that, 
the  couple  were  married.  But  Mr.  Carew  took  me  roundly  to  task 
for  interfering  with  custom,  and  quoted  the  fool  who  rushed  in  where 
angels  feared  to  tread.  It  made  me  think  of  the  Articles  of  War  that 
Mr.  Midshipman  Easy  purchased  from  the  captain’s  clerk  with  his 
old  toothbrush.  Although  all  in  His  Majesty’s  fleet  were  supposed 
to  be  conformable  to  them,  Mr.  Easy  did  not  know  that  they  were 
abrogated  by  the  thousand  and  one  circulars  from  My  Lords  of  the 
Admiralty.  The  Native  Regulations  were  supposed  to  be  law,  but 
one  was  expected  not  to  be  too  much  governed  by  them  when  they 
interfered  unduly  with  native  sentiment.  The  Resident  Commis¬ 
sioner  was  profoundly  affected  by  that,  and  told  me  plainly  that  as 
L 


1 62  Fijian  Women 

regarded  native  affairs  I  was  a  radical,  although  the  opposite  in  our 
own  politics. 

Before  I  left  the  Colony  public  opinion  had  completely  come 
round,  and,  to  make  use  of  a  modern  catchword,  women  were  accorded 
the  right  of  self-determination,  and  no  more  pressure  was  brought 
upon  them  than  is  done  with  ourselves  when  relatives  endeavour  to 
bring  about  desirable  matches.  The  youth  of  both  sexes  adopted 
our  ways  :  girls  were  courted,  and  engagement  rings  became  the 
fashion. 

According  to  Fijian  polity  women  were  but  chattels,  not  so  valu¬ 
able  as  pigs,  as  I  endeavoured  to  show  in  the  opening  chapter.  But 
they  were  so  only  in  theory  ;  in  actual  practice,  from  the  liveliness 
and  sprightliness  of  their  dispositions,  they  had  to  be  seriously 
reckoned  with.  Seeing  the  hard  work  that  Fijian  women  do,  I  mean 
those  of  the  same  social  degree  as  our  poor  working  people,  I  used 
to  think  how  sad  their  lot  was.  I  had  left  England  when  I  was  very 
young  and,  until  I  returned  in  my  old  age,  I  did  not  comprehend 
the  hopeless  and  incessant  drudgery  of  our  own  poor  women.  In 
Fiji  there  is  always  abundance  of  food,  and  extreme  poverty  is  un¬ 
known,  and  there  is  plenty  of  leisure  for  play  and  recreation.  Man 
is  certainly  the  Lord  of  Creation,  but  in  the  hill  country  he  had  to 
do  his  share  of  the  daily  tasks.  A  typical  sight  is  the  man  striding 
ahead  with  the  baby  pick-a-back,  and  the  women  following  with  a 
heavy  back-load  of  firewood,  yams  and  dalo.  It  is  recognised  as  a 
fair  division  of  labour  that  whilst  the  woman  is  occupied  with 
domestic  details  the  husband  looks  after  the  children.  It  was  quite 
a  common  thing  in  the  Courts  to  hear  cross  cases  of  assault  and  battery 
between  married  couples,  and  they  nearly  all  had  striking  family 
resemblances.  The  man  would  be  in  the  upper  part  of  the  house, 
where  the  sleeping  accommodation  is,  nursing  the  baby,  and  the 
woman  in  the  lower  end  doing  the  cooking,  when  the  quarrel  arose. 
When  the  husband  got  sufficiently  into  a  rage  he  would  seize  hold  of 
a  kali  (wooden  pillow)  and  hurl  it  at  his  wife,  and  she  would  retaliate 
by  flinging  billets  of  firewood  at  him.  Then  he  would  rush  down  to 
the  fireplace  to  pummel  her  ;  she  would  probably  seize  a  firestick 
and  brand  him,  and  both  would  appear  in  Court  each  bearing  their 
distinctive  marks.  It  was  almost  as  usual  as  the  letter  in  our  modern 
divorce  cases  giving  the  name  of  the  hotel  where  the  respondent  and 
co-respondent  had  stayed,  sarcastically  alluded  to  by  the  judges  as 
being  of  “  common  form,”  a  legal  term  for  a  document  filed  as  a 
matter  of  course. 

Fijian  women  when  young  are  arrant  coquettes,  full  of  fun  and 


Fijian  Women  163 

strong  willed.  Frequently  rather  than  be  driven  into  distasteful 
matches  they  would  resort  to  suicide.  Taking  them  all  round,  they 
are  good  and  patient,  and  develop  into  exemplary  housewives.  They 
keep  their  houses  neat  and  clean,  and  there  is  no  squalor.  The 
Fijians  had  one  filthy  habit — that  of  lifting  up  their  pretty,  clean 
mats  to  spit  under  them,  but  we  have  nearly  broken  them  of  this. 
I  never  felt  any  repugnance  to  taking  up  my  quarters  in  the  native 
villages,  which  the  exigencies  of  my  work  compelled  me  to  do.  On 
the  contrary,  after  the  long,  hot  rides  the  picturesque  houses,  with 
their  nicely  matted,  cool  interiors,  always  looked  most  inviting.  Then 
the  food  was  tastefully  brought  in  clean  white  baskets  lined  with 
fresh  green  leaves,  and  there  were  always  bowls  of  water  with  which 
to  cleanse  one’s  hands.  As  fingers  had  to  be  used,  unless  one  brought 
knives  and  forks,  these  latter  were  very  welcome. 

The  mats  which  carpet  the  houses,  the  curtains  of  bark  cloth 
which  adorn  the  sleeping  quarters,  the  baskets  to  contain  food  and 
the  earthenware  bowls  and  cooking  utensils  are  all  the  products  of 
female  hands.  The  men  build  the  houses  and  conjointly  with  the 
women  grow  the  crops  and  catch  the  fish  which  accompany  the  yams 
and  dalo,  the  mainstays  of  Fijian  existence.  The  natives  aver  that 
the  latter  will  only  flourish  under  female  care,  and  in  the  old  phallic 
worship  that  once  prevailed  it  was  symbolical  of  their  sex,  as  the  yam 
was  that  of  the  male.  Before  the  advent  of  British  rule  fighting  was 
the  principal  occupation  of  the  men,  and  whilst  they  were  on  the 
war-trail  agricultural  occupations  had  to  be  carried  on  by  the  women, 
and  under  their  capable  organisation  the  tribe  was  kept  in  food. 
Casual  visitors  and  unobservant  long-residents  consider  Fijian  women 
as  downtrodden  and  unhappy,  but  they  themselves  do  not  think  so. 
When  we  used  to  try  and  get  their  work  eased  off  and  say  that  the 
men  should  do  more,  they  would  reply  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  help 
their  husbands  and  boys. 

Fijian  women,  like  our  own,  are  much  more  devout  and  religious 
than  the  men,  and  are  the  mainstay  of  the  Wesleyan  Church.  In 
the  old  cannibal  days  they  were  very  instrumental  in  influencing  their 
male  relatives  in  embracing  the  new  faith.  One  reads  in  the  Bible 
of  the  devout  and  honourable  women  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the 
saints,  and  their  repetitions  are  to  be  found  in  Fiji,  helping  in  the 
church  work  and  supplementing  the  food  and  comforts  of  the  village 
pastors. 

Polygamy  used  to  be  the  order  of  the  day,  but  it  has  from  very 
natural  reasons  completely  died  out.  The  powerful  chiefs  of  the 
coastal  districts  maintained  large  harems,  but  their  brothers  of  the 


164  Fijian  Women 

hill  tribes  seldom  had  more  than  four  wives,  and  it  was  only  a  few 
comparatively  that  could  boast  of  that  number.  When  we  assumed 
the  sovereignty  we  recognised  as  legal  wives  all  that  men  then  had, 
but  they  were  not  to  add  to  them.  In  1884,  the  year  I  went  to 
Tholo,  ten  years  after  that  event,  most  of  the  elderly  men  had 
several  wives,  but  when  I  left  in  1910  nobody  had  more  than  one. 
Public  opinion  was  opposed  to  polygamy,  from  the  fact  that  the 
usual  state  of  Fiji  was  the  reverse  of  that  of  most  other  countries 
in  that  the  men  exceeded  the  women  in  numbers.  Under  the  old 
native  tyranny,  which  permitted  men  of  influence  to  have  a  super¬ 
abundance  of  wives,  the  poorer  class  had  to  go  without.  The  new 
freedom  allowed  liberty  of  thought  and  speech,  and  the  young  men 
of  the  rising  generation  used  to  come  to  me  and  ask  why  certain  of 
the  elders  had  more  than  one  wife,  whilst  some  had  to  go  without. 
The  Wesleyan  Mission  was  uncompromising,  too,  in  its  opposition. 
No  convert  could  be  baptised  and  become  a  communicant  until  he 
had  abjured  all  but  the  one  woman  to  whom  he  had  to  be  joined  in 
holy  matrimony.  It  was  no  case  of  women  being  turned  adrift  to 
destitution  and  want  ;  men  were  waiting,  only  too  glad  to  marry 
them,  and  the  abolition  of  polygamy,  fortunately  for  our  British 
peace  and  prestige,  tended  to  a  happy  condition  of  affairs.  The  right 
of  self-determination  has  elevated  the  status  of  women,  and  those  of 
Fiji  have  now  in  every  whit  the  advantages  of  their  white  sisters. 

Happily,  too,  there  was  a  good  feeling  between  the  women  of  the 
two  races,  and  in  Suva  the  wives  of  the  high  native  officials  who  were 
quartered  there  frequently  dropped  in  for  tea  with  their  English 
friends.  My  mother  was  very  popular  with  them,  and  at  such  times 
as  I  was  at  home  it  used  to  fall  to  my  lot  to  talk  to  and  entertain 
them.  Generally  we  used  to  form  a  small  knot  in  the  lower  end  of 
the  deep  verandah,  and  our  talks  often  gave  me  sidelights  on  native 
thought.  These  marama  (ladies)  mostly  belonged  to  the  coast  tribes, 
and  at  home  would  preside  over  large  establishments  and  superintend 
the  plaiting  of  mats,  making  of  bark  cloth,  fishing  and  the  mainten¬ 
ance  of  the  food  supply.  Knowing  that  they  could  not  pursue  these 
avocations  in  a  European  community,  I  one  day  asked  them  how  they 
managed  to  pass  away  the  time.  After  a  short  silence,  Andi  (title 
preceding  a  name,  equal  to  our  Lady)  Senimili,  a  grand-daughter  of 
King  Thakombau  and  the  wife  of  one  of  the  native  officers  of  the 
A.N.C.,  slowly  replied,  as  if  deeply  pondering  her  words  :  “  Oh  ! 
ah  !  yes  ;  there  is  certainly  not  much  for  us  to  do,  but  we  call  upon 
each  other  and  take  tea  together,  and  then  there  is  always  the  wash¬ 
ing.”  Washing  clothes,  I  must  explain,  amounts  to  almost  a  passion 


Fijian  Women  165 

with  South  Sea  ladies.  Mine  has  been  done  by  some  of  the  members 
of  the  bluest-blooded  families,  and  I  have  read  in  Tahitian  history 
that  the  proud  Queen  Pomare  used  to  condescend  to  get-up  the 
linen  of  the  officers  of  the  men-of-war  calling  in  at  Papeete,  the  chief 
port  of  that  happy  island.  In  Levuka,  the  ancient  capital  of  Fiji 
before  the  seat  of  Government  was  shifted  to  Suva,  there  was  a 
colony  of  Samoans  who  pretty  well  monopolised  the  washing  trade. 
It  was  also  the  rendezvous  for  a  considerable  number  of  German 
traders.  When  Samoa  was  annexed  by  the  Kaiser  in  1900  (it  was 
our  sop  to  keep  him  quiet  during  the  throes  of  the  Boer  War),  it  was 
not  long  before  friction  arose  there  with  the  natives.  The  Samoan 
ladies  at  Levuka,  to  emphasise  their  view  of  the  matter,  promptly 
boycotted  the  Germans  and  refused  further  to  minister  to  their  wants. 

Whilst  I  was  at  Vunindawa  the  wife  of  my  friend  Ratu  Jona,  the 
native  minister,  did  my  washing,  and  with  the  money  she  made 
asked  me  to  buy  her  a  sewing-machine  in  Suva.  I  did  so  and  got  a 
Singer,  which  became  the  bane  of  my  life.  I  ought  to  have  known 
better,  as  one  of  the  cautions  that  the  Resident  Commissioner  gave 
me  when  I  joined  his  staff  was  :  “  Never  give  a  native  a  kerosene 
lamp.  If  you  do,  whenever  the  owner  breaks  a  glass,  wants  a  new 
wick  or  more  oil  he  will  think  that  he  has  the  right  to  come  upon 
you  for  them.”  I  found  that  the  sewing-machine  was  similarly 
regarded.  Whenever  anything  went  wrong  with  it,  I  was  appealed 
to.  I  am  no  mechanician,  and  the  demands  that  were  made  upon 
me  helped  to  make  my  hair  grey  and  my  head  prematurely  bald. 
Something  was  always  going  wrong  with  the  shuttle,  which  the  owner 
called  velovelo,  the  Fijian  for  boat,  from  its  supposed  resemblance  to 
that  article.  The  vuli,  i.e.  the  students  attached  to  her  husband’s 
Mission  School,  frequently  dropped  in  to  say  the  velovelo  was  out 
of  gear  and  could  I  just  slip  over  and  put  it  right,  and  I  did  not 
obtain  relief  from  this  expected  duty  until  I  was  sent  to  another 
province. 

Apropos  of  the  Resident  Commissioner  and  his  advice,  he  had 
another  story  which,  as  it  is  about  a  lady  and  a  lamp,  may,  I  think, 
be  told  here.  He  was  at  Mbau,  the  ancient  native  capital,  and  was 
talking  to  the  Lady  Mary,  the  wife  of  the  Chief  of  the  Royal  Fisher¬ 
men,  a  highly  important  and  powerful  clan,  who  like  our  Marines 
were  soldiers  and  sailors  too,  as  they  were  warriors  in  addition  to 
their  ordinary  calling.  She  pointed  to  her  husband  in  another  part 
of  the  house  talking  to  a  group  of  men.  “  Look  at  him,”  she  said  ; 
“  he  and  some  others  are  talking  of  buying  a  cutter,  and  he  can’t 
give  me  sixpence  to  buy  a  lamp  glass  with  !  ” 


1 66  Fijian  Women 

One  day  when  I  was  talking  to  a  group  of  native  ladies  at  my 
mother’s  I  saw  them  eyeing  earnestly  a  pretty  Scotch  girl  but  lately 
arrived,  who  with  her  other  attractions  had  golden  hair.  Following 
their  glances,  I  said,  “  She  is  very  pretty,  is  she  not  ?  and  I  adore 
golden  hair.”  “  Oh  !  ”  replied  Andi  Mereone,  turning  up  her  nose, 
“  golden  hair,  the  very  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  get  ;  it  is  only 
a  matter  of  sufficiently  washing  it  with  coral  lime.  What  is  really 
difficult  is  to  have  good  black  hair.”  Here  followed  a  dissertation 
on  native  cosmetics  too  lengthy  to  be  repeated  ;  but  something 
should  be  said  about  coral  lime.  If  possible,  the  hair  should  be 
plastered  with  it  at  least  once  a  week.  Not  only  is  it  a  very  sanitary 
measure,  but,  followed  by  a  wash  of  wild  lemon  juice,  a  beautiful 
glittering,  golden  hue  is  imparted  to  the  hair.  When  I  went  home 
with  a  detachment  of  the  A.N.C.  for  King  Edward’s  coronation  we 
took  with  us  a  large  sack  of  coral  lime,  and  I  bought  lemons  at  the 
different  ports  at  which  we  called.  I  was  frequently  asked  how  it 
was  my  men  had  such  beautiful  golden  hair,  and  often  their  fuzzy 
mops  were  taken  for  busbies  or  some  other  artificial  head-dress. 

Andi  Mereone  was  the  lady  who  compared  the  Governor  to  a  fine 
game-cock,  and  she  was  rather  a  wit  in  her  own  way.  She  told  one 
of  my  sisters  one  day  that  a  mutual  acquaintance,  a  Mrs.  So-and-so, 
had  called  upon  her  and  had  bored  her  excessively  by  cross-examining 
her  upon  her  relationship  to  the  Fijian  royal  family.  “  But,”  said 
Mereone,  “  I  did  not  retaliate  by  asking  her  in  what  degree  she  stood 
to  Queen  Victoria.”  We  had  in  those  days  an  elderly  official  whose 
disposition  was  affectionate,  and  who  was  fond  of  kissing.  The  Lady 
Marion,  discussing  his  proclivity,  one  day  said  to  me,  “  Who  wants 
to  be  kissed  by  an  old  man  ?  ” 

I  have  wandered  away  from  the  hill  girls  in  trying  to  portray  the 
sex,  but  in  the  main  they  are  all  alike.  Our  mountain  maidens  had 
their  wit  too. 

When  I  went  on  circuit  the  native  magistrates  and  clerks  of  the 
peace  did  the  preliminary  woik  and  drew  up  the  informations  by 
which  the  cases  were  presented  to  me.  At  one  of  the  Provincial 
Courts  I  found  the  following  indictment :  “  Makalini  informs  the 
undersigned  magistrate  that  Koli  at  Waitambu  was  unlawfully  guilty 
of  slander.” 

Made  before  me — “  Ka.” 

Native  Stipendiary  Magistrate  for  the  Province  of  Tholo  East. 

This  was  meagre,  but  at  the  time  we  were  proud  at  having  gently 
led  our  native  officials  in  the  way  of  court  procedure  and  of  getting 
from  them  anything  in  the  form  of  a  written  indictment.  However, 


Fijian  Women  167 

the  opening  witness  for  the  plaintiff  disclosed  the  gist  of  the  affair. 
He  deposed  that  he  was  the  village  constable  of  Mbotenaulu,  to 
which  place  Makalini  also  belonged,  and  that  he  had  met  the  accused 
at  Waitambu  on  the  main  highway.  Accosting  him  he  inquired 
what  he  was  doing  there.  “  Oh  !  coming  back  from  the  jail  at 
Vunindawa,”  was  the  reply.  “  And  what  were  you  there  for  ?  ” 
“  The  usual  thing  of  course,  a  woman,  but  it  is  not  going  to  happen 
again.”  Here  followed  some  reflections  on  the  sex,  which  are 
unprintable. 

The  constable  when  he  returned  home  in  the  evening  repeated 
the  conversation  and  Makalini  overheard  him.  She  fired  with 
indignation  at  the  aspersions  upon  her  sex,  went  up  immediately  to 
Narokorokoyawa  and  lodged  a  complaint  before  the  Native  Stipen¬ 
diary  Magistrate  accusing  Koli  of  slander.  When  the  matter  came 
up  before  me  in  the  Provincial  Court  I  was  suffering  from  a  legal 
mind.  I  had  just  passed  my  examination  and  been  called  to  the  Bar. 
I  thought  that  in  a  case  of  slander  special  damage  must  be  proved. 
Makalini  had  suffered  none  and  the  reflection  was  one  against  the  sex 
generally  and  not  upon  her  individually.  So  the  case  was  dismissed. 
Viewing  it  now  historically  after  a  lapse  of  thirty  years  and  in  con¬ 
junction  with  native  tradition  and  law  we  ought  to  have  given  the 
accused  a  month’s  hard  labour  on  the  roads.  That  would  have  met 
the  Fijian  idea  of  justice,  and  made  him  useful  to  his  country  and  to 
the  roads  also,  which  reminds  me  of  the  example  in  my  old  Latin 
Grammar  :  Si  facis  ut  patricc  sit  idoneus  utilis  agris. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


Birth  Childhood 


WITH  the  coast-people  children  derived  their  rank  from 
their  mother.  It  is  said  by  the  early  writers  that 
polygamy  rendered  this  necessary,  high  chiefs  having 
so  many  wives  and  concubines  that  it  was  absurd  that 
all  their  offspring  could  take  the  rank  of  their  sires,  and  that  there¬ 
fore  the  position  of  the  mother  regulated  their  children’s  status  in 
society.  This  may  have  been  one  of  the  causes,  but  it  would  seem 
that  at  some  far-distant  period  the  descent  was  uterine,  the  offspring 
belonging  altogether  to  the  mother’s  family.  In  the  Mathuata 
Province  on  the  Island  of  Vanua  Levu  it  still  obtained  in  my  time. 
There,  when  a  child  was  born,  it  belonged  to  its  mother’s  family, 
took  their  name  and  shared  their  lands.  When  the  mother  had  ceased 
child-bearing,  she  returned  home,  her  children,  as  they  grew  up, 
having  preceded  her,  and  beyond  begetting  them  the  father  had 
little  or  nothing  to  say  to  them.  With  most  of  the  other  tribes, 
although  the  rank  is  derived  from  the  mother,  the  children  belong  to 
the  father’s  family. 

This  is  the  case  with  the  Kai  Tholo  or  hill  people,  as  a  rule  the 
descent  being  agnatic,  or  through  the  father.  One  tribe  actually 
recognises  the  right  of  primogeniture  ;  but  even  there  in  most  of 
them  a  faint  trace  of  the  former  influence  of  the  maternal  family 
may  be  perceived  in  the  powers  wielded  by  the  mpther’s  brother  who, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  exclusive  of  the  father,  directs  and  orders 
the  future  of  a  child.  There  are  also  instances  in  which  the  paternal 
family  assumes  sole  control,  but  there,  too,  the  child’s  future  is  more 
in  the  hands  of  the  uncle  than  of  its  parent,  and  in  this  case  it  is  the 
father’s  brother.  This  is  in  Mboumbutho  where  the  father’s  brother 
is  called  the  1 athuluvena  (literally  “  the  child’s  brother  ”). 

In  Noemalu  the  Ganclinana  or  maternal  unde  has  charge  of  the 
child,  though  otherwise  he  belongs  to,  and  takes  the  name  of,  his 
father’s  family  ;  and  it  is  this  tribe  which  acknowledges  the  right  of 

1 68 


Birth  Childhood  169 

primogeniture.  The  ceremonies  which  they  practise  at  the  birth  of 
a  child  are  most  peculiar,  and  are  as  follows  : 

As  soon  as  it  becomes  evident  that  a  new  member  of  the  tribe  may 
be  expected  preparations  are  made  for  its  arrival.  Stores  of  turmeric 
and  piles  of  firewood  are  laid  in.  Miniature  mats,  which  take  the 
place  of  cradles  and  babies’  clothes,  are  also  prepared.  When  the 
woman  begins  to  feel  the  pangs  of  confinement  she  sends  for  the 
midwife,  and  her  female  relatives  assemble.  The  males  of  the  family 
gather  together  in  the  Mbure  or  great  communal  hall  where  most  of 
their  life,  when  not  planting,  fishing  or  fighting,  is  spent.  In  older 
times  a  man  hardly  ever  slept  under  the  same  roof  as  the  woman  ; 
that  is  quite  a  modern  and  Christian  innovation.  The  great  Mbure 
was,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  what  our  clubs  arc.  The  men 
assembled  to  drink  kava  or  what  is  more  properly  known  in  Fiji  as 
yangona  ;  and  also,  as  far  as  they  were  able  or  permitted,  to  keep  an 
eye  on  the  doings  of  the  women,  of  whose  behaviour  they  have  the 
most  profound  distrust.  They  credit  them  with  always  endeavouring 
to  evade  maternity,  and  fear  that  the  midwives  may,  under  the 
pretence  of  the  necessity  of  a  surgical  operation,  unduly  use  the 
bamboo  (their  principal  cutting  instrument),  and  so  damage  the 
offspring.  A  man  never  knows  but  that  at  some  time  or  other  he  may 
have  seriously  offended  his  wife  or  her  relations,  and  this  is  the  way,  he 
conceives,  in  which  they  could  best  revenge  themselves.  To  guard 
against  anything  like  this,  as  far  as  possible,  a  man  is  placed  outside  the 
house  where  the  confinement  is  going  on.  He  squats  under  the  eaves 
and  listens  untiringly  to  all  that  it  going  on  inside,  and  he  is  expected 
to  take  a  full  and  accurate  account  of  all  that  he  hears  to  his  anxious 
principals  at  the  Mbure.  We  may  look  at  this  waiting  outside  as  a 
compromise.  The  women  suffer  that,  but  will  not  allow  a  man 
inside,  and,  in  fact,  on  such  occasions  are  as  fussy  and  important  as 
their  white  sisters.  Should  the  expected  arrival  turn  out  to  be  a 
male,  he  is  greeted  with  shouts  of  “  Mboro ,  mboro  Taingwane  ” 
(Anoint,  anoint  the  male)  ;  if  a  girl,  the  women  go  into  shrieks  of 
laughter  and  roll  about  the  mats  in  paroxysms  of  mirth  at  the 
ridiculousness  of  such  an  insignificant  thing  as  a  woman  being  born. 
The  umbilical  cord  of  a  man  is  cut  on  a  reed,  a  female’s  on  a  bamboo. 
The  former  is  symbolical  of  the  male  organ  and  the  power  of  pene¬ 
tration,  whilst  the  bamboo  is  used  for  the  woman  as  it  is  considered 
the  emblem  of  receptivity  and  of  household  thrift.  In  it  the  water 
for  household  purposes  is  carried,  being  the  Fijians’  bucket ;  with 
its  sharp  splinters  yams  and  dalo  and  other  articles  of  food  are  peeled 
and  prepared.  The  women  who  most  neatly  prepares  the  vegetables, 


170  Birth  &  Childhood 

so  that  they  will  look  inviting  as  they  repose  in  the  green  leaves  with 
which  she  has  lined  her  clean  white  basket,  which  takes  the  place  of 
plates,  is  esteemed  the  better  housewife  and  prized  accordingly,  and 
her  skill  is  supposed  to  emanate  from  the  virtue  of  the  bamboo. 
When  a  boy  is  born  he  is  laid  on  the  grass  underneath  the  mats  in 
order  that  he  may  grow  hardy  and  inured  to  the  exigencies  of  out¬ 
door  life  ;  on  no  account  must  he  be  laid  on  the  mats,  or  he  will  grow 
up  weak  and  effeminate.  On  the  other  hand,  a  girl  is  at  once  placed  on 
a  mat  that  she  may  grow  up  skilled  in  mat  plaiting  and  other  feminine 
occupations.  The  umbilical  cord  is  severed  two  or  three  inches 
from  its  junction  with  the  navel.  The  portion  severed,  together 
with  the  after-birth,  is  delivered  to  the  maternal  uncle.  Should  the 
child  in  question  belong  to  a  fisher  family  (inland  river  fishing)  he 
wraps  it  round  a  smooth  stone  and  secretly  dives  and  deposits  it  in  a 
deep  pool,  which  he  must  never  divulge.  This  is  to  make  the  child 
grow  up  learned  in  the  fisherman’s  art.  Should,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  family  be  one  that  goes  in  for  woodcraft,  the  uncle  must  hide  it, 
also  secretly,  in  the  top  of  some  tall  forest  tree,  so  that  the  child  may 
become  a  fearless  climber  and  versed  in  all  the  learning  of  the  forest. 
The  portion  of  the  umbilical  cord  that  remains  attached  to  the  child 
is  left  alone  until  it  falls  off.  The  father  then  generally  buries  it  and 
plants  a  coco-nut  tree  over  it.  None  of  the  old  hillmen  know  their 
age.  I  have  sometimes  in  joke  asked  them  for  it.  The  one  addressed 
would  only  smile  politely  and  scratch  his  head.  Then  generally  a  by¬ 
sitter  (in  Fiji  in  all  ceremonials,  etc.,  the  posture  of  respect  is  a 
sitting-down  position)  would  laugh  and  say,  “  Oh,  you  had  better 
go  and  ask  the  coco-nut  at  such-and-such  a  place.” 

The  man  stationed  outside  the  house,  having  found  out  by  the 
women’s  behaviour  whether  the  child  is  a  male  or  a  female,  goes  off 
to  the  Mbure  and  announces  the  news.  Immediately  it  is  known 
some  of  the  father’s  young  relatives  hasten  to  get  the  leaves  and 
flowers  of  a  fragrant  shrub  called  the  mbua,  the  Noemalu  floral 
badge,  with  which  to  decorate  the  door-posts  and  lintels  of  the  house. 
This  is  done  as  a  sign  of  joy,  and  the  men  who  do  it  are  handsomely 
rewarded  by  the  proud  father. 

Three  days  after  the  birth  of  a  male,  and  four  days  after  that  of  a 
female,  it  is  bathed  for  the  first  time  and  named.  The  day  before 
this  ceremony  the  father  and  his  friends  go  fishing  for  crayfish  or 
fresh-water  prawns,  and  for  little  blunt-headed  soft  fish  called  vo 
that  are  found  among  the  grasses  and  sedges  that  fringe  the  banks  of 
the  mountain  streams.  The  vo  are  preserved  alive  in  water  in 
bamboo  buckets,  whilst  the  prawns  are  cooked.  On  the  day  of  the 


Birth  &?  Childhood  1 7  1 

ceremony  the  relations  and  friends  collect  together  in  the  house  where 
the  child  is.  In  their  midst  is  a  large  wooden  bowl  of  water  in  which 
are  placed  the  little  fish  alive.  Floating  on  the  surface  are  four  of 
the  broad  glossy  leaves  of  the  mbua,  the  tribal  emblem  (the  ceremony 
is  called  the  vakasevu  mbua  or  first-fruits  of  the  mbua).  They  are 
placed  criss-cross  heaped  with  powdered  turmeric.  The  midwife 
then  approaches  with  the  child  well  daubed  with  turmeric  reclining 
on  a  baby’s  little  mat,  over  which  is  spread  a  piece  of  malo  (bark 
cloth)  and  holds  it  over  the  bowl  of  water.  The  father  and  the  male 
friends  then  make  a  circle  round  it,  linking  together  their  little 
fingers,  and  chant  the  following  verse  : 

“  Vua  na  mburu  soka, 

Lala  ngungu,  i  ye,  yi ! 

I  ye  ya  ne, 

Vua  na  makita, 

Ka  lala  mbisa  mbisa, 

I  ye  yi  i  ya  ye  E  !  ” 

(Then  the  child  is  dipped  into  the  water) 

“  Tau  tau  ki  wai,  i  ya  ye, 

I  ya  ne !  ” 

Dip  in  the  water,  i  ya  ye, 

I  ya  ne.” 

After  the  dipping  of  the  child  the  piece  of  native  cloth  on  which 
it  reclined,  stained  deep  with  turmeric,  used  to  be  handed  to  the 
maternal  uncle.  He  preserved  it  until  the  next  fight  took  place,  and 
then  wore  it  as  a  head-dress.  This,  of  course,  was  only  in  the  case 
of  a  male  child,  and  was  done  in  the  hope  that,  as  the  uncle  bore 
himself  valiantly  in  the  fray,  so  would  the  child.  My  informant 
did  not  say  what  would  happen  in  the  case  of  cowardice.  That  does 
not  appear  to  have  been  considered  at  all  possible.  The  males  of  the 
party  then  returned  to  the  Mbure  and  feasted,  the  prawns  forming 
the  -piece  de  resistance.  The  vo  or  live  fish  that  were  in  the  bowl  were 
given  to  the  midwife  as  her  portion.  After  the  men  had  eaten,  a 
bowl  of  yangona  was  brewed,  and  they  discussed  what  should  be  the 
name  of  the  child.  An  ancestral  name  is  always  chosen,  the  Fijian 
hillmen  being  as  proud  of  their  descent  as  the  Scottish  highlanders. 
The  name  having  been  decided  on,  the  maternal  uncle  goes  to  the 
house  where  the  women  are  and  cries  out,  “  What  ho,  you  women 
there  within  !  ”  The  women  reply  with  two  measured  claps  of  the 
hands.  The  uncle  then  says,  “  The  name  of  the  child  is  Ka  ”  (Fijian 
synonym  for  “  So-and-so  ”).  He  is  answered  by  a  volley  of  loud 
claps,  and  thus  the  ceremony  concludes. 


172  Birth  &  Childhood 

In  Mboumbutho  the  customs  are,  if  anything,  more  peculiar  than 
those  just  mentioned,  and  are,  I  think,  worthy  of  a  detailed  account. 
In  them  the  father’s  brother  or  paternal  uncle  is  the  important 
functionary.  He  is  called  the  Tathu  luvena,  the  child’s  brother. 
Those  that  I  am  about  to  recount  are  more  properly  observed  at 
the  birth  of  the  eldest  child  (in  most  parts  of  Fiji  the  eldest  is  called 
the  Ulumatua,  in  Mboumbutho,  Umani.  I  would  also  premise  that 
in  my  narrative  I  almost  entirely  use  the  precise  words  of  my  native 
informants). 

In  Mboumbutho,  then,  when  the  Umani  is  born,  the  first  thing 
done  is  that  an  intimate  and  close  friend  of  the  father  takes  an 
enormous  log  of  firewood  to  the  house  where  the  mother  and  child 
are.  The  log  is  called  the  de  ni  varathi  levu,  or  “  the  long  stayer,” 
and  is  meant  to  smoulder  long  and  keep  the  mother  and  child  warm. 
The  father  rewards  the  bringer  with  a  handsome  present.  Then 
the  father’s  brother,  the  Tathu  luve?ia  (either  a  younger  brother,  or 
if  no  younger  brother,  a  younger  cousin  or  son  of  a  younger  brother), 
proclaims  that  on  the  fourth  day  after  the  birth  a  great  feast  must  be 
prepared.  Pigs  are  selected  and  prawns,  vo  and  eels  are  caught  and 
preserved  alive  in  a  native  bowl,  either  a  clay  dish  or  wooden  vessel, 
if  possible  in  a  “  vesi  ”  yangona  bowl.  Then  on  the  fourth  day  all  the 
friends  and  relatives  collect  at  the  mother’s  house  round  about  the 
bowl  of  water,  in  which  are  the  live  fish,  etc.  The  mother  then 
approaches  with  the  child  in  her  arms,  and  lays  it  on  an  outspread 
mat,  and  it  is  then  smeared  with  turmeric.  Two  old  men  then 
station  themselves  at  each  end  of  the  mat,  one  at  the  head  and  one 
at  the  foot,  and  each  catches  hold  of  an  end.  Then  the  people  in 
the  house  sing  : 

1.  “  Yarambula,  yarambula  (Haul  it  alive), 

2.  Yarambula,  yarambula, 

3.  Yarambula,  yarambula, 

4.  Yarambula,  yarambula.” 

And  the  old  men  drag  the  mat  to  and  fro,  and  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  chant  say  :  “  Ke  Keirau  tinimaka  lingo  ungoi ,  Ka  mbula  lingo 
na  ungone  ungoi  mai  muri  ”  or  “  We  finish  this  up  in  the  hope  that 
this  child  in  the  future  will  flourish,”  to  which  all  the  rest  of  the 
elderly  men  present  reply  with  “  Manai  sa,  e  ndina  ”  or  “  May  it  be 
a  true  omen.” 

When  this  is  finished  four  old  men  each  take  a  corner  of  the  mat 
on  which  the  child  is,  and  lift  it  up  and  carry  it  to  the  bowl  of  water, 
alongside  of  which  was  the  father’s  brother,  the  Tathu  luvena,  in  a 


Birth  &  Childhood  173 

bowed-down  position  in  the  way  in  which  Fijians  and  Orientals 
pray,  i.e.  with  his  head  on  the  ground,  presenting  a  broad  back  ;  and 
then  this  song  it  sung  : 

“  Enda  laki  sisili,  kivei,  kivei  ? 

Ki  tubei  i  Savusavu. 

Na  vua  ni  kau  thava  ? 

Na  vua  ni  Kalambisa. 

Ka  Kala  mbisa  mbisa, 

Euru,  euru  tuva  e.” 

(“  Let  us  go  and  bathe  ;  where,  where  ? 

At  the  source  of  the  water-fall. 

The  fruit  of  what  tree  ? 

The  fruit  of  the  Kalambisa. 

Our  little  Kalambisa 

Euru,  euru,  lay  him  down.”) 

After  this  the  mat  with  the  child  on  it  is  lowered  into  the  bowl  of 
water.  Then  the  child  is  lifted  off  it  and  placed  upon  the  back  of  its 
uncle,  the  7athu  luvena,  who  is  waiting  alongside  of  the  bowl  in 
bowed-down  position.  There  it  is  washed  and  cleansed  of  the 
turmeric,  with  which  it  had  been  anointed  prior  to  being  dragged  to 
and  fro  on  the  mat  by  the  old  men.  From  this  ceremony  the  Tathu 
luvena  is  also  called  Naisilisili,  “  The  bathing  place  or  bath.” 

After  the  child  has  been  washed  it  is  put  on  a  new  mat  called  the 
eva  (No.  4)  probably  from  being  used  on  the  fourth  day,  and  the 
mat  which  was  lowered  on  to  the  bowl  is  put  on  one  side.  The  child 
is  simply  laid  on  the  ordinary  matting  of  the  house  at  this  stage  of 
the  proceedings,  and  not  carried  in  arms.  As  it  lies  so  one  of  the 
elders  who  sits  at  the  feet  addresses  it  thus  :  “  If  thou  art  a  child  of 
war,  move  about ;  if  thou  art  a  child  of  peace,  lie  still.”  Then  all  the 
rest  shout  : 

1.  “  Mbuli  Yatha,  mbuli  yatha  e. 

2.  Teitei  vaki,  na  yatha  ni  mama  e. 

3.  Toka  ko  Talesawavu,  toka  lelethia  siro  tu.” 

(“  Make  a  name,  make  a  name, 

Plant  the  name  of  this  man, 

Let  it  be  Talesawavu,  happy  let  him  be.”) 

(Talesawavu  is  a  sample  name  only  ;  whatever  is  to  be  the  name 
of  the  child  is  to  be  then  announced,  such  as  Davelevu,  Tamanivalu, 
etc.)  When  the  above  chant  is  done  a  man  shouts  out  with  a  loud 
voice  the  name  of  the  child,  and  the  mother  carries  it  forward  in  her 
arms  and  replies,  “  £,”  and  then  claps  her  hands. 


174  Birth  &  Childhood 

Then  the  feast  is  presented  to  those  present  at  the  washing  of  the 
child.  An  elderly  relative  of  the  child  gets  up  and  offers  the  food 
with  the  following  speech  :  “  It  is  nothing,  O  you  chiefs,  but  a  poor 
feast  for  the  washing  of  your  younger  brother,  your  son  that  is  here, 
a  feast  given  that  he  may  grow  and  flourish,  a  feast  of  the  moli  ” 
(Shaddock  tree),  (tribal  symbol  of  the  Nasongo  branch  of  the 
Mboumbutho  tribe).  Then  the  feast  is  divided,  and  when  they  have 
finished  eating,  the  water  in  which  the  child  was  bathed  is  thrown 
outside  together  with  the  prawns,  eels  and  fish  that  were  alive  in  it. 
All  the  village  children  come  and  scramble  for  these,  and  it  is 
supposed  to  be  symbolical  that  the  child  will  always  be  generous  and 
share  his  food  with  his  comrades.  Then  the  bamboo  in  which  the 
fish,  etc.,  had  been  kept  prior  to  being  put  into  the  bowl,  is  taken 
outside  and  planted  in  the  ground,  and  the  boys  pelt  it  with  stones. 
This  is  to  make  the  child,  when  grown  up,  skilful  in  dodging  missiles. 
The  bamboo  is  called  nongeni  lava  or  basket  of  food. 

The  child  then  remains  at  home  till  it  can  stand  up,  when  it  is 
taken  outside  to  the  gardens.  In  the  road  is  placed  a  bundle  of  reed 
leaves,  done  up  in  a  package  in  the  way  fish  are  tied  up  in  reed  leaves. 
This  is  to  make  the  child  grow  up  a  skilful  fisherman.  A  few  reed 
stalks  are  placed  in  the  path  a  little  further  on,  to  make  him  strong 
at  wood-cutting,  more  especially  firewood,  of  which  great  quantities 
are  required  in  the  Mbure.  Still  further  on  are  a  few  more  reed 
stalks,  which  are  strewn  in  the  road  for  the  child  to  pass  over,  to 
render  him  handy  at  fashioning  spears.  A  slight,  straight,  strong 
sapling  on  the  road  is  also  selected  by  his  young  male  relatives.  The 
top  of  this  is  bent  down  to  the  ground  like  a  bow.  The  father 
carries  the  child  in  his  arms  and  passes  it  over  the  trunk  of  this  tree 
from  root  to  stem  slowly,  and  then  the  young  men  let  it  fly  back  into 
its  original  position.  This  is  called  kairinarina ,  the  flying  or  bound¬ 
ing  tree.  It  is  done  to  make  the  child  a  fearless  tree-climber. 

After  this  they  return  to  the  mother’s  house,  where  a  big  feast  of 
yams  and  taro  has  been  prepared,  accompanied  by  a  pig  if  the  family 
is  influential  enough  to  afford  it.  The  food  when  cooked  is  taken  to 
the  Mbure ,  and  the  child  is  taken  there  too  for  the  first  time,  and  as 
he  enters  it  the  old  men  say  levulevu  (presumably  a  prayer  that  the 
child  may  grow  up  strong  and  big  ;  all  utterances  on  such  occasions 
are  either  pious  wishes  or  curses). 

Four  days  after  this  a  little  hole  is  dug  in  the  road  just  long  enough 
to  hold  the  child.  A  reed  is  got  and  split  in  two  and  painted  yellow 
with  turmeric,  and  the  pieces  are  bent  and  planted  arch  fashion  over 
the  hole,  one  at  the  head  and  one  at  the  foot,  after  having  previously 


Birth  &  Childhood  175 

been  passed  along  the  stomach  of  the  child.  A  man  then  sits  at  the 
head  of  the  hole  and  another  at  the  foot,  and  they  pass  the  child 
to  and  fro  under  the  reeds  four  times,  saying  as  they  do  so,  “  Tint 
maki,  lingo  ungoi,  ka  mbula  na  ngone  ”  or  “  We  finish  this  up  that  the 
child  may  grow  and  flourish.”  On  that  day  the  child  is  thickly 
plastered  with  turmeric.  Then  large  presents  are  made  to  the 
friends  and  relatives,  and  a  feast  is  presented  raw,  which  the  relatives 
roast  for  themselves.  After  that  the  child  remains  at  home  ;  if  a  male, 
until  his  beard  begins  to  spring ;  if  a  girl,  till  her  breasts  appear  ; 
when  it  is  time  for  the  former  to  be  invested  with  the  malo  or  native 
cloth,  and  the  latter  with  her  liku  or  grass  dress.  Until  then  they  go 
about  naked. 

When  the  time  has  arrived,  the  Tathu  luvena  invests  the  youth 
with  the  malo  or  garb  of  manhood,  when  it  is  considered  no  longer 
decent  for  him  to  go  about  unclothed.  In  doing  so  he  says  the 
following  prayer  over  him  :  “  This  is  the  sevu  (the  first)  of  this 
child’s  malo  ;  let  it  be  granted  that  he  may  be  a  Molt  ;  let  it  be  a 
true  omen  !  !  !  !  ” 

Four  days  after  this  the  relatives  assemble  and  take  off  the  malo. 
They  bring  other  malo  as  presents  to  the  father  and  Tathu  luvena ,  and 
say  the  same  prayer  for  the  youth  that  the  latter  has  already  said,  as 
in  the  last  paragraph. 

Ten  days  after  this  the  friends  and  relatives  collect  again  to  make 
a  final  investiture  of  the  malo ,  after  which  there  is  no  further 
ceremony  in  connection  with  its  removal.  The  youth  does  as  he 
likes  about  taking  it  off,  etc.  It  is  accompanied  by  solemn  feasting 
and  interchange  of  presents  between  the  father  and  the  members  of 
his  mataqali  or  clan. 

It  is  presumed  that  a  certain  amount  of  the  enemy,  if  possible, 
would  be  captured  and  clubbed  on  such  an  occasion.  We  know  that 
that  would  happen  with  the  coast  chiefs,  when  first  they  put  on  the 
masi.  My  informant  has  kept  carefully  quiet  on  this  point,  it  being 
the  fashion  nowadays  to  be  ashamed  of  such  barbarous  customs.  It 
may  also  not  have  been  a  rule  in  Tholo,  where  they  were  split  into 
small  independent  bodies  of  free  men,  which  would  have  rendered 
the  procuring  of  victims  difficult. 

Then,  after  a  while,  comes  the  time  for  the  circumcision  of  the 
young  men,  and  the  tattooing  of  the  girls,  most  important  cere¬ 
monies,  prior  to  marriage  to  be  dealt  with  in  the  next  chapter. 

This  pretty  well  concludes  the  early  life  of  young  people  in  Tholo. 
Throughout  Tholo  many  peculiar  and  distinct  ceremonies  are 
observed  at  the  birth  of  children,  those  just  recounted  having  been 


176  Birth  ®  Childhood 

selected  as  samples  out  of  the  many.  It  seems  to  be  pretty  universal 
amongst  all  the  forest  tribes  that  a  ceremony  should  be  gone  through 
that  will  make  the  child  a  fearless  climber  and  unsusceptible  to 
giddiness.  One  way  was,  that  the  midwife  took  the  child  by  the  legs 
and  whirled  it  round  and  round.  Once  in  Tholo  East  I  heard  a 
charge  of  manslaughter  arising  from  the  death  of  a  child,  who,  it  was 
alleged,  had  been  killed  by  this  practice.  At  a  sessions,  too,  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  a  case  of  this  description  was  sent  in  from  the  inland 
portion  of  Tailevu,  from  one  of  the  Wainimbuka  villages  I  think  ; 
both  of  these  charges  were  dismissed.  Another  remedy  against  a 
child  growing  up  with  giddiness  is  for  the  female  friends  of  the 
mother  and  the  midwife  to  sit  at  short  distances  from  one  another, 
and  to  throw  the  child  from  one  to  the  other,  in  fact  play  a  sort  of 
catch-ball  with  it. 


Our  American  Friends. 

Henry  Quincy  Adams,  the  great,  grandson  of  Washington’s  successor,  and  John  La  Large, 
the  celebrated  New  York  artist,  photographed  by  the  Governor  at  Nasongo,  }rd  July,  iMni. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


Circumcision  Tattooing 

BOTH  circumcision  and  tattooing  are  difficult  subjects,  as 
they  apply  in  either  sex  to  “  those  members  of  the  body, 
which  we  think  to  be  less  honourable.”  (i  Corinthians 
xii.  23.)  More  especially  is  this  the  case  as  regards  the 
tattooing  of  the  women.  In  some  of  the  tribes  there  are  outward 
and  visible  signs  of  the  practice  about  the  mouth  and  chin,  but  they 
are  small  in  proportion  to  that  which  is  concealed  by  the  dress. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  incumbent  to  say  something  about  them  in  a 
description  of  Fijian  life,  as  both  were  highly  important  religious 
ceremonies  at  which  the  novices  were  presented  to  the  ancestral 
spirits,  renamed  and  dedicated  to  the  tribal  service. 

Circumcision. — Up  to  the  time  of  fny  leaving  Fiji  in  1910  circum¬ 
cision  was  still  in  vogue,  but  it  was  done  privately,  and,  as  far  as  I 
knew,  without  any  ceremonies.  For  some  years  I  had  under  my 
command  a  small  body  of  the  Armed  Native  Constabulary.  The 
younger  men  every  now  and  then  would  go  mysteriously  sick,  and  I 
used  to  find  out  that  it  was  owing  to  circumcision.  We  generally 
had  what  I  called  a  “  barber-surgeon  ”  in  the  force,  one  of  the 
hereditary  priestly  caste,  who  in  olden  times  was  also  the  valet  and 
physician  of  the  chiefs,  and  he  performed  the  operation  after  due 
consultation  with  the  elder  men.  It  was  regarded  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  I  was  not  told  about  it.  I  did  not  like  being  deprived  of 
the  men  thus  put  out  of  action  temporarily,  but  it  was  one  of  the 
many  customs  to  which  one  had  to  defer. 

In  Israel  the  rite  takes  place  on  the  eighth  day  after  birth,  when  the 
child  is  also  named.  Already  in  the  last  chapter  it  has  been  shown 
how  the  young  Fijian  was  baptised  and  named  on  the  third  or  fourth 
day.  Circumcision  did  not  take  place  until  the  age  of  puberty, 
when  either  a  new  name  was  assumed  or  that  conferred  at  baptism 
was  repeated  and  confirmed  formally  in  the  presence  of  the  congrega¬ 
tion.  It  has  a  certain  amount  of  analogy  to  the  Jewish  ceremony  of 
presenting  boys  to  the  congregation  at  the  age  of  twelve  and  making 
M  177 


178  Circumcision  Tattooing 

them  “  Sons  of  the  Law,”  and  somewhat  equivalent  to  our  confirma¬ 
tion. 

The  jealousy  between  the  sexes  at  childbirth  has  been  shown, 
and  how  the  men  endeavoured  then  to  take  precautions  and  arrange 
for  the  perpetuation  of  the  ancestral  names.  But  after  all  it  was  the 
women  who  generally  scored.  Although  the  children  had  the  right 
to  bear  the  names  conferred  by  the  fathers  in  council  in  the  great 
Mbure,  they  usually  were  known  by  the  pet  endearment  given  by  the 
mother’s  attendants  at  birth.  One  of  my  native  clerks,  a  youth  with 
a  distinctly  scholarly  bent,  and  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  having 
written  out  many  of  the  legends  and  scraps  of  history  from  which 
I  am  endeavouring  to  compile  my  story,  was  given  the  ancestral 
name  of  Tumbi ,  but  the  women  had  already  called  him  Bembe,  which 
rather  prettily  means  “  Butterfly.”  Then  when  he  was  baptised  he 
was  christened  Joseva,  or  as  we  say,  Joseph.  Being  an  observant 
youth  he  noticed  that  his  white  superiors  generally  had  several  names, 
so  he  used  to  write,  when  he  signed  himself  in  full,  Joseva  Bembe 
Tumbi.  Our  Governor  at  that  time  was  Sir  John  Bates  Thurston, 
who  was  in  the  habit  of  initialling  his  official  minutes  J.B.T.,  and 
he  was  very  frequently  alluded  to  in  conversation  as  the  great  J.B.T. 
The  youth  Joseva  often  tidied  up  my  papers,  and  he  did  not  fail  to 
notice  that  his  own  initials  and  those  of  the  great  Supreme  Chief 
were  identical.  Gradually,  instead  of  signing  his  name  in  full  to 
documents  he  merely  appended  J.B.T.  Imitation,  as  we  know,  is 
the  sincerest  flattery,  and  it  is  also  a  South  Sea  compliment  to 
exchange  names,  as  can  be  seen  by  reading  Captain  Cook’s  voyages. 
Joseva  did  not  quite  go  to  that  length,  but  he  adopted  His  Excellency’s 
practice. 

The  pet  names  of  the  women  were  usually  given  for  some  peculiarity 
at  birth.  A  youth  whom  I  knew  was  called  Mbeka ,  the  Flying  Fox, 
because  his  first  cry  reminded  his  mother’s  friends  of  the  shrill  utter¬ 
ances  of  that  pretty  little  animal  as  it  plunders  the  fruit  trees  at  night. 
Before  I  left  Fiji  Mbeka  had  grown  into  a  man,  but  was  always  known 
by  that  name,  although  in  writing  letters  he  signed  in  addition  his 
baptismal  and  ancestral  designations.  Another  acquaintance  Kalavo, 
the  Rat,  was  so  styled  because  he  was  supposed  to  squeak  like  one 
when  he  was  born.  One  of  my  boatmen  was  Thelua ,  which  means 
hairy,  as  like  his  famous  prototype  Esau,  he  came  into  the  world  in 
that  condition.  Those  who  delight  in  The  Jungle  Book  know  how 
Mother  Wolf  adopted  the  hero  of  that  story  :  “  Keep  him  ! 

Assuredly  I  will  keep  him.  Lie  still,  little  frog,  O  thou  Mowgli — for 
Mowgli  the  Frog  I  will  call  thee.”  Mboto  is  the  Fijian  for  it  and  a 


Circumcision  &  Tattooing  179 

popular  name  for  fat  little  babies.  Will  it  continue  to  be  so  f  The 
poor  frog  has  almost  disappeared  altogether  in  Viti  Levu,  though  it 
may  survive  in  the  islands  as  yet  unvisited  by  that  scourge  the 
devastating  mongoose. 

Christening  now  takes  the  place  of  the  old  custom  of  sprinkling 
the  children  with  water  from  the  yangona  bowls  in  which  swam  the 
little  river  fish  and  freshwater  prawns.  In  my  days  in  Tholo  East  the 
people  used  to  wait  for  the  annual  visitation  of  the  head  of  the  circuit, 
and  I  have  seen  the  Reverend  Dr.  Langham  baptising  babies  by  the 
dozen  in  the  church  at  Nakorovatu.  As  a  rule  Biblical  names  are  given 
and  the  child  is  then  known  either  by  that  or  the  pet  endearment  of 
the  mother,  the  ancestral  designation  given  by  the  father  and  his 
friends  being  used  as  a  surname,  for  example,  Joseva  Bembe  Tumbi, 
my  old  clerk. 

Consequently  change  of  name  is  no  new  thing  to  Fijians,  and  I 
have  heard  them  sing  with  great  gusto  one  of  Sankey’s  hymns,  a  line 
of  which  is : 

“  Nongu  na  sala  koula,  nongu  na  yatha  vou.” 

(“  Mine  is  the  crown  of  gold,  mine  the  new  name.”) 

Omitting  the  obscene  and  phallic  parts  of  circumcision,  some  of 
the  ceremonies  practised  are  not  without  interest,  particularly  that 
of  the  new  name  in  Noikoro.  There  and  in  those  clans  whose  forbears 
were  of  Polynesian  origin  the  novices  were  called  Yavou,  literally 
new  men.  In  the  purely  aboriginal  tribes  they  were  known  as  Kula. 
The  Yavou,  during  the  time  they  were  as  the  Shechemites,  whom 
Simeon  and  Levi  slew  (Genesis  xxxiv.  25),  were  attended  by  relatives 
who  had  already  been  initiated.  These  were  called  Roko  Tukutukani 
(the  noble  elders). 

In  Noikoro  the  Yavou  were  circumcised  publicly  in  the  Mbure  or 
Great  Tribal  Hall,  which  was  also  the  Temple  of  the  Gods  as  there 
dwelt  the  spirits  of  bygone  ancestors.  They  were  not  visible  to  the 
mortal  eye  but  manifested  their  presence  by  certain  signs  and  por¬ 
tents  to  the  priests.  They  haunted  the  dark  spaces  where  the  roof 
narrows  at  the  meeting-place  of  the  rafters  with  the  ridge  pole,  and 
descended  the  chief  mbou  or  king-post  to  partake  of  the  libations, 
the  first  cupful  of  each  brew  of  yangona  which  was  poured  out  at  the 
foot  of  this  post. 

The  painful  operation  was  performed  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
tribe,  men,  women  and  children,  and  had  to  be  borne  without  a 
murmur.  Even  when  the  inevitable  wincing  took  place  the  youths 
were  adjured  to  remember  the  tribe  they  belonged  to  and  to  com- 


i8o  Circumcision  &  Tattooing 

port  themselves  like  men.  From  the  chief  king-post  to  the  lower 
door,  the  common  entrance,  the  women  stretched  in  two  ranks 
facing  each  other  with  a  narrow  lane  between  them.  Facing  each 
other  thus  they  intoned  the  tribal  chant  used  on  these  occasions, 
and  as  they  sang  they  swept  the  space  between  them  with  their  hands 
by  a  circular  motion,  thus  removing  every  particle  of  dust  and  rubbish. 

At  the  head  of  the  lane  at  the  foot  of  the  principal  king-post,  with 
his  forehead  pressed  against  it  and  his  back  to  the  women,  stood  a 
veiled  figure  shrouded  from  top  to  toe  in  grass  mats,  one  of  the 
hereditary  priests  or  seers.  After  each  youth  had  been  operated  on 
and  attended  to  by  his  sponsor  he  filed  out  by  one  of  the  doors  at 
the  upper  or  chief  end  of  the  Mbure ,  and  passing  round  it  re-entered 
by  a  lower  door  and  crawled  slowly  up  the  lane  of  women  to  the 
veiled  seer.  Rising  there  to  his  feet  he  touched  him  lightly  between 
the  shoulders  ;  the  seer  would  then  say,  “  What  is  your  name  ?  ” 
The  novice  would  mention  that  of  his  childhood.  Then  would  be 
propounded,  “  What  is  the  new  name  ?  ”  It  would  be  given,  and 
acclaimed  by  the  congregation  and  the  tribal  chant  would  ring  out, 
of  which  this  is  a  verse  : 

“  Pass  the  name,  pass  the  name, 

Too  long  has  he  been  Vunimbombo, 

Now  he  is  called  Telatha.” 

Sometimes  as  the  youth  gave  his  name  to  the  shrouded  figure  at 
the  post  he  would  be  told,  “  Ere  you  touched  me  your  spirit  came 
before  and  I  felt  his  presence.”  That  was  an  omen  that  the  youth 
would  not  be  long  for  this  world. 

When  all  had  given  their  new  names,  the  proceedings  were  closed 
by  all  in  the  Mbure  chanting  : 

“  Root  of  the  Mbaka  that  hollow  stands, 

Root  of  the  Mbaka  Nawa  that  hollow  stands, 

Root  of  the  Ara,  le,  e,  e  ! 

Root  of  the  Mbaka  that  hollow  stands, 

Root  of  the  Mbaka  Nawa  that  hollow  stands, 

Root  of  the  Ara,  le,  e,  e  ! 

The  coco-nut  and  the  old  coco-nut, 

Let  you  and  me  climb  up  to  the  top, 

Your  father,  your  son,  to  the  very  top, 

Konai  ya,  e. 

Stand  up  in  the  pass  of  the  Vau, 

Let  him  be  called  Ra  Matau, 

Nai  e  ya  e.” 


Circumcision  &  Tattooing  181 

Mbaka  and  mbaka  nawa  are  species  of  the  banyan  tree,  and 
floral  emblems  of  the  Noikoro  tribe. 

Ra  Matau  means  the  noble  right  hand  and  perhaps  signifies  that 
the  son  may  now  become  the  mainstay  of  the  family  and  supersede 
his  father.  Generally  in  Polynesia  parents  sink  into  comparative 
obscurity  when  their  children  arrive  at  the  age  of  discretion.  Having 
done  their  duty  they  are  replaced  by  their  offspring.  This  custom 
rather  puzzled  Captain  Cook  and  the  early  South  Sea  voyagers. 
Men  in  influential  positions  at  their  first  visits  were  found,  after  an 
interval  of  some  years,  to  have  passed  into  the  background,  and  it 
was  discovered  that  they  had  been  replaced  by  their  children. 

In  Fiji,  although  this  custom  does  not  absolutely  obtain,  the  identity 
of  parents  becomes  to  a  certain  extent  merged  in  that  of  the  children. 
In  the  coast  villages  a  man  and  his  wife  get  known  as  the  father  and 
mother  of,  say,  Wasa  (the  Sea).  Then  they  would  be  called  Tamai 
Wasa  and  Tinai  Wasa,  the  father  and  mother  of  Wasa.  This  is  the 
converse  of  our  habit  of  naming  a  man  after  his  father,  as  Johnson, 
Thomson,  etc.  In  Tholo  men  generally  retained  their  own  names, 
and  also  on  the  coast  when  they  were  of  strong  personality.  Only 
the  mediocre  got  called  after  their  progeny. 

The  Noikoro  practise  complete  circumcision  as  the  Jews  do, 
whilst  some  tribes  only  undergo  the  modified  form  known  scientifi¬ 
cally  as  incision.  In  olden  times,  those  who  did  it  entirely  professed 
the  greatest  contempt  for  the  partial  method,  and  when  they  fought 
such  people  as  had  been  so  treated,  they  advanced  to  the  battle 
reviling  them  as  uncircumcised  and  unclean.  So  when  the  Bible  was 
translated,  the  objurgations  hurled  by  the  Israelites  at  the  uncircum¬ 
cised  Philistines  were  quite  familiar  cries. 

The  Noemalu,  although  closely  related  to  the  Noikoro,  belong  to 
those  who  undergo  incision.  Like  the  former  the  operation  is  per¬ 
formed  publicly  in  the  great  tribal  hall  and  partakes  of  the  nature  of 
an  ordeal  of  manhood,  to  be  borne  bravely.  But  a  further  trial  had 
to  be  endured  on  the  fourth  day  when  the  novices  purified  them¬ 
selves  by  washing  in  the  river. 

The  youths  then  proceeded,  swathed  in  masi,  to  the  selected 
bathing-place,  accompanied  by  their  elders  armed  with  clubs  and 
spears.  Public  notice  had  been  previously  given  that  the  Tavou,  or 
newly  circumcised,  would  bathe  on  a  certain  day  at  an  appointed 
place,  and  thither  flocked  all  the  people  of  the  neighbouring  villages. 
They  came  armed  with  spears,  short  throwing-clubs,  stones,  and  all 
kinds  of  missiles.  Arrived  at  the  water’s  edge,  the  Tavou  divested 
themselves  of  their  folds  of  uiasi  which  became  the  property  of  their 


1 82  Circumcision  &  Tattooing 

elders.  They  then  went  into  the  water,  and  had  a  long,  delicious 
bath,  and  cleansed  themselves  of  the  accumulated  filth  of  the  pre¬ 
vious  four  days.  When  they  had  finished,  they  made  a  simultaneous 
rush  for  home.  This  was  a  signal  for  the  people  of  the  neighbouring 
villages  to  chase  them  and  hurl  their  missiles  at  them.  The  youths 
who  successfully  dodged  these  would  become  celebrated  warriors, 
but  he  who  got  hit  would  not  have  a  long  career.  However,  to  effect 
a  diversion,  their  sponsors,  who  had  come  down  armed  for  that 
purpose,  threw  themselves  between  the  Y avou  and  the  pursuers, 
with  whom  they  had  a  sham  fight.  This  lasted  until  the  newly 
circumcised  got  home  to  their  village,  when  time  was  called  and  the 
game  was  over,  and  pursuers  and  pursued  all  feasted  together  on  food 
previously  prepared  by  the  novices’  mothers.  Though  many  were 
badly  bruised  and  cut,  all  fed  together  to  show  that  there  was  no 
animosity. 

In  the  purely  Melanesian  or  aboriginal  tribe  of  Mboumbutho  the 
novices  are  known  as  Kula.  Their  operation  takes  place  in  the  heart 
of  the  forest  and  not  in  the  big  Mbure,  and  is  performed  by  a  skilled 
V uniwai  or  professed  surgeon,  who  doubtless  would  be  one  of  the 
priestly  class.  It  was  done  with  many  weird  rites  and  incantations, 
accompanied  with  a  fervent  prayer  that  the  youth  would  become  a 
true  graft  of  the  tribal  tree,  the  moli ,  one  of  the  indigenous  family 
of  the  citrus.  When  a  number  of  aspirants  were  ready  for  the  rite, 
their  friends  made  a  presentation  of  native  property,  consisting 
principally  of  warlike  weapons,  to  the  elders  in  the  tribal  Mbure. 
A  consultation  was  then  held  and  a  day  fixed  for  the  ceremony, 
which  was  commenced  by  a  sham  fight  between  the  Lako  and  the 
Lavo.  Throughout  inland  Viti  Levu  these  words  signify  the  alternate 
generations.  If  a  man  is  a  Lako  his  son  will  be  a  Lavo,  and  should 
the  latter  have  a  child,  then  it  becomes  again  a  Lako.  Certain  magic 
virtues  appertain  to  this  relationship.  They  can  render  services  to 
each  other  which  would  be  of  no  effect  if  done  for  one  of  their  own 
class  or  generations.  The  following  example  may  help  to  explain 
this  custom.  I  was  out  tracing  the  road  to  Mba,  when  a  Mboumbutho 
man  of  my  party  got  badly  stung  by  the  salato ,  or  Fijian  nettle, 
which  causes  the  most  intense  irritation.  Our  guide,  a  Thawanisa 
youth,  said  to  the  sufferer,  “  I  am  a  Lako  ;  if  you  are  a  Lavo  I  can 
give  you  leaves  which  will  relieve  your  pain  ;  but  if,  like  myself, 
you  are  a  Lako,  I  can  do  no  good.” 

I  remember  whilst  resting  once  in  a  hill  village,  as  I  lay  dozing  on 
the  mats  there  were  two  old  men  plaiting  coco-nut  fibre  and  making 
string  used  for  ties  in  house  building.  Such  used  to  be  the  occupation 


Circumcision  Tattooing  183 

of  the  industrious  in  their  leisure  hours,  as  knitting  is  with  the 
women  of  our  own  race.  As  they  made  the  string  they  yarned, 
addressing  each  other  ceremoniously  as  Tako  and  Lavo.  In  the  May 
number  of  Na  Mata ,  1919,  there  is  an  account  by  a  native  con¬ 
tributor  of  the  renaming  of  boys  and  girls  in  olden  time  after  they 
had  undergone  respectively  the  rites  of  circumcision  and  tattooing, 
as  practised  in  the  royal  clan  of  Mbau.  There  he  says  the  children 
were  not  named  at  birth,  but  one  generation  was  called  Tuka 
(grandfather)  and  the  other  Tama  (father)  if  they  were  males,  or 
Mbuna  (grannie)  and  Tinai  (mother)  when  women,  and  they  were 
just  called  grannies  or  fathers  and  mothers,  according  to  their 
generation,  and  were  not  positively  named  until  circumcision  or 
tattooing  had  taken  place.  The  article  is  very  casual  and  slipshod, 
but  it  helps  to  illustrate  the  custom  of  alternating  generations.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  the  same  habit  of  the  mothers’  pet-names  obtained 
as  much  in  Mbau  as  elsewhere. 

In  Mboumbutho  instead  of  the  purification  in  the  river  the  Kula 
proceeded  to  some  remote  and  lonely  forest  glen,  dressed  in  fine 
flowing  bark  cloth  which  is  called  masi  kalou  or  the  dress  of  the  gods. 
There  they  divested  themselves  of  their  finery  and  buried  it  in  a 
deep  hole.  Never  again,  under  the  pain  of  death,  were  they  to  visit 
that  spot.  So  strict  is  the  rule  in  Mboumbutho  that  there  is  a  saying 
when  one  is  visited  by  friends  after  a  long  absence,  “  Is  your 
masi  kalou  buried  at  my  village  that  you  do  not  come  to 
see  me  ?  ” 

The  aspirants  in  Mboumbutho  must  not  be  mentioned  by  their 
names,  and  their  attendant  friends  are  their  Toma ,  which  nearly  all 
over  Tholo  is  the  equivalent  of  the  coast  T au  (friend).  The  Kula 
also  may  not  address  their  friends  by  their  proper  names.  They 
mutually  address  each  other  as  Nongu  Toma  (my  friend).  As  they 
return  home,  they  are  attacked  by  a  party  of  their  fellow  tribesmen 
who  lie  in  ambush  on  the  road,  and  shoot  at  them  with  arrows  and 
pelt  them  with  throwing-clubs,  ula.  The  Kula  then  plunder  the 
gardens  and  kill  the  pigs  of  their  neighbours,  for  which  they  have 
licence,  the  owners  only  shrugging  their  shoulders  and  saying,  “  The 
path  of  the  Kula  has  passed  this  way.”  Also  it  has  become  a  saying 
when  one  robs  a  garden  without  licence,  “  Is  he  a  Kula  that  he  can 
do  this  thing  ?  ” 

The  ritual  differs  in  each  tribe ;  to  give  them  in  full  would  fill  a 
large  volume,  but  the  foregoing  gives  a  general  idea  of  what  used  to 
be  done.  In  all  probability  newly  appointed  district  officers  will 
serve  their  whole  term  without  hearing  anything  about  circumcision. 


184  Circumcision  elf  Tattooing 

It  may  die  out  altogether,  but  in  my  time  a  man  was  considered 
unclean  until  he  had  undergone  the  operation. 

Tattoo. — When  I  arrived  in  1870  the  young  girls  about  Suva  and 
in  the  adjacent  districts  of  Rewa  and  Mbau  were  not  tattooed,  but 
the  middle-aged  and  elderly  women  had  been.  As  the  practice  there 
was  confined  to  that  part  of  the  body  which  is  covered  by  the  waist- 
cloth  no  outward  signs  were  visible.  Westward  down  the  coast  to 
Nandrong-a  and  inland  the  mouths  were  also  tattooed.  In  some 
places  the  markings  only  consisted  of  a  small  elongated  circle  or 
ellipse  on  each  side  of  the  mouth,  which  scarcely  could  be  regarded 
as  a  disfigurement.  Rather  it  added  a  spice  of  roguery  to  a  girl’s  face, 
especially  when  there  was  a  selenka  or  native  cigarette  tucked  away 
there.  In  other  parts  all  the  chin,  with  a  broad  sweep  round  the 
mouth,  including  the  upper  lip,  were  hideous  with  the  dark  blue 
tracery  of  the  art.  When  I  went  to  Tholo  East  in  1884  the  custom 
was  still  in  full  swing  in  the  remote  districts  in  the  very  heart  of 
Viti  Levu.  In  my  rounds  through  the  villages  I  got  to  know  most  of 
the  children,  amongst  whom  were  many  pretty  girls.  On  a  subse¬ 
quent  visit  I  would  find  them  completely  changed,  and  their  counten¬ 
ances  spoilt  by  the  tattoo. 

One  of  the  charms  of  Fijian  life  is  that  there  is  so  much  open  boat 
work  possible  in  the  sheltered  waters  of  “  the  lazy  locked  lagoon.” 
The  barrier  reefs  of  coral,  often  miles  distant  from  the  shore,  afford 
a  wide  space  of  comparatively  smooth  water.  Though  protected 
from  the  ocean  swell  the  expanse  inside  the  reefs  is  sufficiently  large 
to  permit  of  a  good  deal  of  rough  water.  It  is  all  right  and  very 
pleasant  as  long  as  one  is  running  down  before  the  constant  S.E.  trade, 
but  on  the  return  journey  a  wind  with  a  touch  of  west  is  sighed  for. 
In  the  days  of  my  youth  I  often  jumped  into  a  boat  clad  only  in  a 
pair  of  white  duck  trousers,  a  shirt  and  a  straw  hat,  and  ran  down 
the  coast  towards  Nandrong-a  before  the  fresh  fair  trade.  That 
was  easy  enough,  the  difficulty  was  to  return.  A  day’s  journey 
westward  meant  a  three  days’  travail  to  get  home  again.  That 
was  overcome  in  a  measure  by  night  sailing,  as  then  on  the  south  coast 
of  Viti  Levu  the  wind  frequently  draws  to  the  west  a  bit  and  blows 
off  the  shore.  My  boatmen  would  invoke  the  Spirit  of  the  Land 
Breeze  by  crying  : 

“  Come,  come,  O  Spirit, 

From  the  ladies  of  the  west ; 

O  ladies  with  the  black  mouths, 

Give  us  a  fair  wind.” 

My  boat  boys  were  generally  from  Suva  or  Rewa  and  thus  did  they 


Circumcision  &  Tattooing  185 

note  the  difference  between  their  own  womenkind  and  those  in  Fa 
or  the  region  towards  the  setting  of  the  sun. 

Tattooing  was  performed  in  the  secret  recesses  of  the  forest  by 
the  hereditary  priestesses.  Very  little  is  known  about  it,  yet,  as  I 
endeavoured  to  set  forth  in  Chapter  VII,  the  practice  is  a  veritable 
keynote  to  early  Fijian  and  Polynesian  history.  I  was  too  driven  by 
work,  whilst  on  the  spot,  to  consider  the  matter  seriously,  and  it  is 
only  since  my  retirement  that  I  have  had  the  leisure  to  ponder  it. 
Some  years  before  I  left  Fiji  in  1910  I  think  that  the  practice  had 
altogether  died  out.  Old  women  still  exist  who  perhaps  could  throw 
light  on  the  subject  if  patiently  cross-examined. 

The  writer  of  the  article  on  circumcision  in  the  Na  Mata  of  May, 
1919,  says  that  the  renaming  of  girls  and  their  dedication  to  the  tribal 
service  took  place  in  the  remote  spots  in  which  they  were  tattooed. 
On  no  account  were  they  publicly  presented  in  the  Temple  as  the 
boys  were. 

Malakai  Navatu,  who  in  my  time  was  Mbuli  of  Mboumbutho,  and 
Joseva  Bembe  Tumbi,  whom  I  mentioned  in  the  beginning  of  this 
chapter,  who  became  Mbuli  of  Yalatina,  each  wrote  a  monograph  on 
tattooing  for  me.  From  their  quaintness  and  simplicity  I  venture 
to’reproduce  them  verbatim. 

TATTOOING 

Notes  by  Malakai  Navatu,  late  Mbuli  of  Mboumbutho 

Tattooing  was  the  revered  and  beautiful  ornamentation  of  the 
women  to  which  great  weight  was  attached  both  by  men  and  women, 
and  it  was  performed  in  the  following  manner  :  The  woman  to  be 
tattooed  must  be  quite  free  from  the  custom  of  women,  must  fast 
for  a  clear  twelve  hours,  from  daylight  till  eve,  and  the  night  before 
she  must  fish  for  freshwater  prawns  from  dark  till  dawn,  and  must 
search  for  and  procure  three  lemon  thorns  to  be  affixed  to  pieces  of 
reed  stems  as  handles  (the  instrument  for  the  operation).  Then 
she  had  to  lie  on  her  back  before  the  old  woman  who  concocted  in 
a  coco-nut  shell  the  liquid  used  for  the  staining.  This  ancient  dame 
blessed  the  liquid  and  prayed  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead  to  soften  the 
skin  of  the  girl  so  that  the  operation  should  not  pain  her  too  much. 
Then  the  tattooing  commenced,  the  sacred  part  being  the  first  to  be 
done.  The  pain  which  it  caused  was  called  “  the  extraction  of  the 
spear.”  When  this  had  been  done,  which  was  the  part  that  gave 
much  pain,  the  girl  was  soothed  into  a  heavy  sleep,  and  then  the 
operator  pushed  on  with  her  work.  The  pattern  traced  was  like  that 


1 86  Circumcision  &  Tattooing 

printed  on  native  cloth  like  the  painted  cloth  of  Nairukuruku.  There 
were  different  methods  of  doing  tattooing,  like  the  different  kinds 
of  games,  and  they  had  two  names — one,  the  “  Net,”  because  it 
looked  like  the  meshes  of  a  net  ;  two,  the  ! Thaia . 

Also  there  were  two  people  concerned  in  the  operation  :  the  first 
was  Lewavuku,  the  wise  woman ;  the  second,  Lewandaumbati,  the 
woman  operator. 

The  girl’s  intended  husband  had  to  present  them  with  a  club,  as 
an  earnest  or  preliminary  payment,  then  he  had  to  feed  the  operators 
and  provide  a  feast  on  the  fourth  day  after  the  conclusion  of  the 
operation.  By  then  the  skin  on  the  body  would  have  healed.  That 
day  was  called  “  the  shedding  of  the  scales.”  Then  all  the  women 
would  gather  together  to  witness  the  falling  off  of  the  scales,  and  it 
used  to  rouse  the  envy  of  the  young  girls  to  see  the  beautiful  pattern. 
It  was  shown  to  them,  like  you  set  a  bait  for  a  dog,  to  make  them  also 
want  to  be  tattooed.  It  was  also  done  for  the  sake  of  the  woman’s 
husband,  that  when  he  went  to  sleep  with  her  that  he,  too,  when  he 
undid  her  liku  (grass  dress)  might  see  the  beautiful  tracery.  For 
that  reason  the  woman’s  lips  were  tattooed  that  her  husband  might 
desire  to  kiss  them. 

From  the  Fijian  of  Joseva  Bembe  Tumbi,  Late 
Mbuli  of  Yalatina 

Concerning  the  tattooing  of  former  times  there  was  no  reason  or 
meaning  for  it,  being  merely  an  ornament  on  the  part  of  the  women 
to  attract  men.  When  an  old  woman  saw  a  girl  growing  up,  she 
would  say  to  her  :  “  It  is  time  you  were  tattooed  before  you  grow 
old  ;  it  is  better  to  get  it  done  whilst  you  are  young  and  your  body 
supple.”  Then  the  girl  would  become  willing  to  be  tattooed.  Then 
she  would  take  some  masi  or  native  cloth  to  one  skilled  in  tattooing 
as  an  earnest  of  payment,  and  afterwards  when  she  went  to  the  V ale 
(women’s  house)  she  would  pay  over  tambua  (cachalot  teeth),  more 
native  cloth,  and  liku  (grass  dresses)  for  the  commencement  of  the 
tattooing.  Whilst  the  tattooing  was  going  on  the  girl’s  man  would 
be  fishing  and  getting  ready  the  fourth  night  feast  for  the  wise 
woman.  As  the  tattooing  proceeded  and  the  shaddock  thorn  dealt 
badly  with  the  girl’s  flesh  she  would  tell  her  man,  who  was  to  be  her 
husband,  and  he  would  make  payments  to  the  wise  woman,  and  then 
the  shaddock  thorns  would  be  better  directed. 

When  the  woman  was  tattooed  her  husband  and  his  family  would 
make  a  feast  for  the  wise  woman  and  give  her  property,  and  then 


Circumcision  Tattooing  187 

she  would  return  to  her  own  home.  Then  the  girl  who  had  been 
tattooed  would  be  invested  with  the  liku  (native  grass  dress,  the 
badge  of  womanhood,  as  the  malo  was  that  of  manhood),  the  name 
of  the  dress  being  the  V orivori  ni  Sususung-i  Tiko  (the  debut  or 
coming  out).  One  reason  that  women  were  emulous  in  getting 
tattooed  was  that  when  they  went  to  bathe  together  they  were  not 
ashamed,  i.e.  those  that  had  been  tattooed  ;  whilst  those  who  had 
not,  hid  their  shame  with  a  grass  dress.  Also,  those  not  tattooed 
bathed  in  another  pool  on  account  of  their  shame.  So  that  was  the 
reason  of  their  emulation.  Moreover,  a  woman  who  was  not  tattooed 
got  roundly  cursed.  If  a  man  immaturely  deflowered  his  virgin  she 
would  say  that  she  suffered  again  the  pain  of  the  tattooing,  but  if  he 
was  continent  and  awaited  the  proper  time  then  she  would  say  that 
she  had  not  again  felt  the  prick  of  the  shaddock  thorns.  When  young 
girls  went  about  with  women  who  had  been  tattooed  they  would  say 
to  them,  “  Take  off  your  dresses  that  we  may  see  your  tattooing, 
whether  it  is  good  or  bad.”  When  they  saw  it  they  liked  it,  and 
“  Oh  !  that  we  too  could  be  tattooed,  it  looks  so  beautiful.”  Then 
they  all  greatly  desired  to  be  tattooed.  Then  they  would  greatly 
take  up  the  time  of  the  woman  who  tattooed.  Some  time  after  the 
tattooing  the  girl  would  send  word  to  her  husband  to  come  to  her. 
Then  the  woman’s  family  and  the  husband’s  family  would  collect 
property  to  exchange,  and  other  property  to  hand  over  to  the  woman’s 
people  without  anything  in  return,  in  payment  for  the  woman.  Then 
the  couple  would  sleep  together.  The  next  morning  all  the  women 
would  go  and  bind  the  liku  (grass  dress)  round  the  bride’s  waist ;  each 
woman  would  take  her  a  red  liku.  Then  on  the  fourth  day  the 
husband  and  wife  would  go  and  bathe  together,  and  the  families  of 
both  would  kill  pigs  and  have  a  great  feast  in  order  that  the  man  and 
his  wife  might  feed  together,  and  after  that  all  would  return  home 
and  go  their  own  way. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


Marriage  &  Divorce 

FIJIANS  had  the  greatest  horror  of  inbreeding,  and  to 
prevent  it  they  entirely  prohibited  marriage  between 
cousins  except  in  one  particular  degree.  The  exclusion 
from  this  rule  was  in  regard  to  children  the  offspring  of 
brothers  and  sisters.  It  was  founded  upon  an  innate  distrust  of 
human  nature,  and  upon  the  assumption  that  it  is  a  wise  child  who 
knows  its  own  father.  All  men,  they  argued,  were  licentious,  and  no 
woman  was  safe  from  their  lust  except  their  own  sisters,  with  whom 
no  one  could  be  so  depraved  as  to  have  intercourse.  Therefore,  they 
argued,  in  unions  between  the  children  of  brother  and  sister  there 
must  be  a  certain  definite  remoteness  of  blood.  All  other  degrees  of 
cousinhood  were  considered  to  be  in  the  same  degree  of  relationship 
as  that  of  brother  and  sister,  and  therefore  marriages  between  such 
were  accursed  and  under  the  strictest  ban. 

Very  stringent  barriers  were  placed  between  brothers  and  sisters. 
After  their  earliest  infancy  they  were  prohibited  from  speaking  to 
each  other  and  might  not  even  mention  each  other’s  name.  For  a 
woman  to  utter  her  brother’s  name  amounted  to  the  most  awful  of 
curses.  I  heard  of  an  occasion  in  which  the  late  Andi  Arieta  Kuila, 
the  daughter  of  King  Thakombau,  who  governed  the  Naitasiri 
Province  during  the  minority  of  her  son,  was  greatly  exasperated 
by  something  that  her  waiting-women  had  either  done  or  omitted 
to  do.  In  her  fury  she  exclaimed  :  “  I  will  swear  the  most  dreadful 
of  oaths.  I  will  mention  the  name  of  my  eldest  brother  !  ”  This 
terrible  threat  so  upset  the  culprits  that  they  begged  her  to  inflict 
any  punishment  she  liked  rather  than  resort  to  such  a  dire  extremity. 

A  boy  and  girl,  children  respectively  of  a  brother  and  a  sister  are 
called  ndavolana.  The  word  is  derived  from  the  verb  ndavo,  to  lie 
down.  Fijians  are  fond  of  reciprocatives  and  terms  expressing 
mutuality,  and  render  the  bond  existing  between  such  couples  as 
veindavolani  which  means  the  obligation  to  lie  down  together  or 
cohabit.  It  used  to  imply  the  man’s  absolute  proprietorship  of  the 

1 88 


Marriage  &  Divorce  189 

woman,  and  he  could  do  whatever  he  liked  with  her.  The  British 
peace  brought  release  from  this  state  of  affairs,  and  women  unduly 
pressed  sought  the  relief  the  new  regime  afforded.  However,  about 
two  years  before  I  left  Fiji,  a  youth  who  was  veindavolani  with  a  girl 
attempted  to  effect  by  force  what  he  considered  to  be  his  right, 
which  was  being  refused.  Public  opinion  had  so  far  veered  round 
that  the  father  of  the  maiden  prosecuted  the  offender  in  the  Pro¬ 
vincial  Court,  where  he  was  convicted  and  sentenced  to  eighteen 
months’  hard  labour. 

For  some  years  after  the  advent  of  our  rule  the  returns  showed 
that  the  native  population  was  gradually  decreasing.  The  Govern¬ 
ment  took  the  matter  greatly  to  heart,  and  applied  every  remedy 
possible  with  the  result  that  the  last  few  years  have  shown  slight 
increases  except  when  the  Colony  has  been  visited  by  any  great 
epidemic,  such  as  the  Spanish  influenza  in  1918.  Some  of  the  critics 
of  native  affairs  maintained  that  the  marriage  of  cousins,  that  is,  of 
those  who  stood  in  the  permissible  class  of  veindavolani  was  respons¬ 
ible  for  much  of  the  mortality,  which  was  principally  confined  to 
children.  The  birth-rate  was  always  good,  but  an  unduly  large  pro¬ 
portion  of  the  children  died  during  infancy,  and  by  some  this  was 
ascribed  to  inbreeding  induced  by  the  unions  of  people  too  closely 
related.  The  Royal  Commission  appointed  to  inquire  into  the 
matter  collected  and  tabulated  a  great  quantity  of  information  on 
this  particular  point,  and  it  was  established  that  as  a  rule  the  offspring 
in  these  cases  were  healthier  and  survived  to  a  greater  extent  than 
those  not  so  related.  The  conclusion  drawn  was  that  much  super¬ 
stitious  veneration  attached  to  these  matches  and  induced  a  greater 
care  in  the  upbringing  of  the  progeny. 

But  the  numbers  of  those  who  were  in  that  particular  degree  of 
cousinship  could  not  have  been  very  great  when  we  consider  another 
peculiar  habit  of  the  Fijians.  After  a  woman  had  given  birth  it  was 
strictly  the  law  that  her  husband  should  have  no  marital  intercourse 
with  her  for  at  least  three  or  four  years,  in  order  that  the  child  might 
be  properly  suckled  and  nurtured.  I  have  seen  grown  boys  and  girls 
about  five  or  six  years  old  still  taking  their  mothers’  breasts.  Although, 
as  it  will  be  shown  shortly,  infant  marriages  were  in  vogue,  couples 
did  not  come  together  until  the  woman  was  about  sixteen  or  seven¬ 
teen  years  of  age,  and  taking  the  ancient  custom  into  consideration 
and  the  rapid  ageing  of  females  in  tropical  climates,  three  or  four 
children  would  be  all  that  she  would  bear.  For  a  man  to  transgress 
in  this  matter  was  considered  an  outrage  on  public  decency,  and  his 
wife’s  relations  would  combine  and  inflict  the  horrible  punishment 


iqo  Marriage  &  Divorce 

of  mbuturaki  on  him.  That  implied  his  being  knocked  down  and 
stamped  upon.  Fijians  are  strong,  heavy  men,  and  when  a  number  of 
them  got  a  victim  down  and  jumped  upon  him,  he  generally  bore 
their  marks  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

Our  milder  system  and  the  examples  set  by  Europeans  brought 
emancipation  from  the  restriction  set  upon  the  intercourse  of  the 
sexes,  although  in  the  first  years  of  my  service  public  opinion  still 
condemned  undue  uxoriousness  on  the  part  of  a  man.  I  have  already 
said  that  some  of  the  applications  made  to  the  Court  were  calculated 
to  make  my  hair  stand  on  end,  many  of  which  were  from  ladies  who 
sought  relief  from  what  they  considered  the  too  great  attentions  of 
their  lords. 

This  somewhat  lengthy  exposition  is  an  endeavour  to  set  forth  the 
general  principle  underlying  the  ancient  marriage  law  of  Fiji.  That 
part  which  deals  with  the  unions  of  the  offspring  of  brothers  and 
sisters,  who  are  ndavolana  to  each  other,  is  universal  throughout  the 
group.  I  should  like  now  to  pass  to  the  pretty  and  interesting 
customs  practised  in  the  hill  country  upon  the  wedding  of  a  youth 
and  maid.  I  have  a  paper  on  it  before  me  written  by  one  of  my 
friends  in  Noemalu,  a  member  of  one  of  those  tribes  which  I  have 
mentioned  as  having  adopted  a  Polynesian  hero  for  their  chief  in  the 
days  of  yore.  As  far  as  possible  I  will  try  to  follow  the  native  idiom, 
which  is,  however,  given  to  repetition  and  reiteration.  The  opening 
paragraph  is  a  naive  and  simple  attempt  to  show  the  main  principle 
of  veindavolani ,  and  therefore  I  am  tempted  to  give  it  verbatim. 

This  is  the  account  of  Fijian  marriages,  written  on  the  2nd 
August,  1889: 

“  The  commencement  is  like  this :  if  a  man  has  two  children,  one 
a  woman  and  the  other  a  man,  and  the  woman  gets  married  and  goes 
away  to  another  village  and  then  brings  forth  a  son,  and  her  brother 
too  gets  married  and  has  a  daughter,  then  the  proper  course  is  for  the 
woman,  the  mother  of  the  male  child,  to  go  back  to  her  native  place 
and  ask  the  maternal  uncle  of  her  niece  to  give  her  in  marriage  to 
her  son.  The  maternal  uncle  always  replies  :  ‘  Very  good,  our 
daughter  shall  go  unto  your  people  to  be  a  mother  unto  them.’  ” 

Arrangements  were  often  made  for  the  marriages  of  children  even 
before  they  were  born.  Men  who  were  intimate  friends,  whose 
wives  showed  signs  of  adding  to  their  families,  would  agree  that  if 
the  sexes  would  permit  they  would  further  bind  the  ties  between 
them  by  uniting  their  progeny  in  wedlock.  Supposing  that  a  pair 
of  such  friends  were  respectively  presented  with  a  boy  and  a  girl,  the 
first  step  would  be  for  the  maternal  uncle  of  the  girl  to  make  a 


Marriage  Divorce  191 

ceremonious  call  upon  the  relatives  of  the  boy.  He  took  nothing 
with  him  except  his  mouth ,  with  which  he  promised  the  girl  to  his 
friends.  He  was  rewarded  with  handsome  presents  and  sumptuously 
feasted.  Returning  home  he  divided  the  gifts  amongst  the  girl’s 
family,  and  they  were  regarded  as  the  earnest  which  bound  the 
marriage  contract.  The  boy’s  kinsmen  would  then  prepare  an 
enormous  repast  which  they  presented  to  the  prospective  bride’s 
relations.  It  was  accompanied  by  a  club  which  was  handed  to  her 
maternal  uncle.  It  was  symbolical  of  the  law,  that  of  the  club,  and 
meant  death  to  those  who  infringed  it. 

For  the  first  few  years  of  her  life  the  little  maid  remained  with 
her  own  people,  but  after  she  had  been  properly  suckled  and  weaned 
her  prospective  husband’s  father  assembled  the  members  of  his 
family  and  entertained  them  with  a  feast.  He  would  harangue  them 
then,  and  say  that  the  time  had  come  to  bring  home  the  new  mother. 
Women  in  tribal  matters  are  always  so  regarded,  and  are  like  unto 
the  “  mothers  in  Israel  ”  of  the  Bible.  Their  supreme  avocation  is 
the  bearing  of  children  and  the  due  maintenance  of  the  strength  of 
the  clan. 

At  this  feast  the  arrangements  were  made  for  taking  gifts  and 
visiting  in  state  the  bride’s  people,  and  the  sending  of  a  messenger  to 
ask  them  formally  to  appoint  a  day  for  the  meeting  of  the  two 
families. 

At  the  time  agreed  upon,  the  whole  of  the  bridegroom’s  relatives, 
men,  women  and  children,  called  in  state  upon  the  bride  and  her 
family  and  were  formally  received  in  the  largest  and  most  spacious 
of  their  houses.  Her  father  ceremoniously  accepted  the  whales’ 
teeth  and  other  gifts  presented  on  such  an  occasion  saying  :  “  It  is 
good,  you  may  return  home ;  to-morrow  we  will  bring  the  woman 
to  you.” 

In  pursuance  of  this,  a  big  pig  was  killed  the  next  day  and  baked, 
and  many  other  provisions  were  prepared  with  it.  In  addition  each 
one  took  a  present  of  some  sort,  knowing  that  whatever  they  gave 
would  be  amply  repaid  in  return  gifts.  When  all  was  ready  they  set 
out  in  a  joyful  procession  to  the  bridegroom’s  village.  They  were  not 
allowed  to  eat  any  of  the  food  they  took  with  them ;  that  was  ex¬ 
clusively  reserved  for  those  whom  they  were  about  to  visit.  As  they 
neared  their  destination  they  wound  a  piece  of  bark  cloth,  five 
fathoms  long  round  the  girl  for  her  sash,  and  covered  her  with  more 
of  the  same  material,  to  be  used  as  her  coverlet.  As  she  approached 
her  betrothed’s  house,  his  friends  spread  it  with  new  mats,  laying  a 
strip  of  masi  (bark  cloth)  over  them,  forming  a  pathway  from  the 


I92  Marriage  &  Divorce 

entrance  to  the  upper  end.  Up  this  crawled  the  girl’s  maternal  uncle 
with  the  bride  on  his  back.  On  no  account  was  she  to  touch  in  any 
way  the  grass  with  which  the  house  was  strewn  nor  the  mats  which 
covered  them.  Arriving  at  the  upper  or  chief  end  of  the  house  she 
sat  down  there  with  her  uncle,  who  at  this  particular  ceremony  is 
called  the  Toko,  which  simply  means  the  prop  or  main  support  of  a 
building.  Then  her  father  handed  over  to  his  hosts  the  food  and  the 
gifts  which  his  people  had  brought  with  them. 

When  the  ceremony  had  got  so  far  the  child  husband  appeared 
upon  the  scene,  his  smooth  and  supple  skin  glistening  with  oil,  and 
robed  in  strips  of  flowing  bark  cloth,  and  with  him  came  his  boy 
kinsmen  similarly  attired.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  whale’s  tooth 
which  he  tossed  to  the  bride  and  which  she  caught.  By  that  time  noon 
would  have  arrived,  and  the  men  and  women  of  the  place  would  file 
into  the  rara  or  village  green  with  large  baskets  of  food  and  baked 
pigs  for  the  refreshment  of  their  visitors,  which  were  with  all  due 
form  and  ceremony  presented  to  the  bride’s  father,  who  in  turn 
divided  them  out  among  his  followers. 

The  next  day  a  still  greater  feast  would  be  presented  to  the 
visitors  as  they  entered  the  rara  enshrouded  in  masses  of  bark  cloth. 
Of  this  they  divested  themselves  and  gave  it  to  their  hosts  with  many 
other  things  which  they  had  brought  with  them.  The  bridegroom 
did  not  appear  on  this  occasion  but  remained  at  home  in  his  own 
quarters,  but  at  midnight  the  women  of  the  village  went  to  the 
bride’s  house  and  sang.  This  was  a  signal  for  the  boy  to  come  and 
undo  the  masi  wound  round  his  girl’s  waist.  After  the  women  had 
repeated  their  song  four  times  she  went  and  sat  in  one  of  the  small 
doorways  at  the  upper  end  of  the  house.  Then  her  lover  came  with 
a  kali  or  native  pillow.  It  generally  stands  on  small  legs,  which  form 
a  kind  of  hook.  He  stretched  this  out  and  got  the  legs  entangled  in 
the  sash  of  his  future  wife  and  with  it  he  drew  it  off,  being  enjoined 
under  many  penalties,  such  as  loss  of  reason  or  death,  not  to  touch 
her  with  his  hands. 

This  nearly  completed  the  preliminary  ceremonies,  those  practised 
during  childhood,  and  the  time  had  come  for  the  return  home  of  the 
bride’s  people.  Her  girl  friends  were  supposed  to  be  very  sorrowful 
and  downhearted  at  leaving  her,  and  to  cheer  them  up  the  young 
men  on  the  opposite  side  got  up  theatrical  representations  known  as 
vakatasuasua ,  which  were  gross  and  obscene  mimicries  of  the 
intimacies  of  married  life. 

When  the  relatives  had  departed  the  girl  remained  under  the 
guardianship  and  tutelage  of  her  mother-in-law,  who  took  her  to  the 


Sir  John  Thurston  (standing)  on  the  rara  or  village  green  of  Nasongo,  being  presented  with  a  mang-iti  or  feast.  His  matanivanua, 

or  talking  man,  is  seated  by  it  returning  thanks. 
yhotoby  the  Hon.  John  Berry,  M.L.C.,  Commissioner  of  Lands  and  Works ,  Nasongo ,  3 rd  July,  iRqi. 


Marriage  &  Divorce  193 

food  gardens,  instructed  her  in  the  boundaries  of  the  tribal  planting 
grounds,  in  the  lore  of  the  land,  how  to  fish  the  hill  streams,  and  in 
all  sorts  of  domestic  work. 

All  the  time  of  their  childhood  the  affianced  couple  did  not  speak 
to  each  other.  As  the  youth  increased  in  years  and  desired  to  do  so, 
more  presents  had  to  be  given  to  the  girl’s  relations.  Then  the  elders 
on  his  side  would  wfag  their  wise  old  heads  and  say  it  was  time  for  the 
girl  to  be  tattooed,  and  she  would  retire  to  the  forest’s  depth  with 
some  of  the  elderly  female  relatives  of  her  husband,  and  there 
undergo  the  dread  operation. 

Some  months  after,  the  old  people  would  have  another  consulta¬ 
tion  and  say,  “  The  girl  is  now  well  grown  and  healthy,  and  it  is 
time  she  bore  children  and  did  her  duty  by  the  tribe.”  The  cere¬ 
mony  called  tevu  imbe  or  the  spreading  of  the  mats,  which  formed 
the  nuptial  couch  was  then  arranged.  It  was  done  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  bridegroom’s  house,  which  was  screened  off  from  the  lower 
end  by  a  thick  curtain  of  bark  cloth,  and  there  the  couple  spent  their 
first  night  together.  The  next  morning  the  young  husband  went  to 
the  big  Mbure  draped  in  many  fathoms  of  masi  which  he  took  off  and 
presented  to  his  elders,  and  made  a  public  declaration  as  to  the 
virginity  of  his  wife.  Then  he  returned  home  and  remained  in 
seclusion  with  her  for  three  more  days  and  nights,  during  which  time 
they  were  quietly  fed  by  the  man’s  womenfolk  who  passed  in  baskets 
of  food  unobtrusively  through  the  side  doors.  On  the  fifth  day  the 
couple  went  and  bathed  together  and  passed  the  rest  of  the  day 
catching  vo,  the  blunt-headed  little  fishes  that  live  in  the  sedges  of  the 
river  banks.  After  that  they  returned  to  ordinary  village  life  and 
probably  never  slept  together  again  in  their  village  residence.  That 
was  considered  effeminate  and  unbecoming  in  a  warrior,  whose  proper 
quarters  were  the  great  Mbure  or  tribal  hall,  which  was  the  barracks 
or  place  d'armes  for  the  fighting  men  in  case  of  night  surprises. 
However,  men  and  women  spent  a  great  part  of  the  planting  season 
in  little  huts  in  their  gardens  which  also  served  as  storing  places  for 
their  yams,  and  conjugal  intercourse  usually  took  place  there.  That, 
of  course,  was  in  times  of  peace  when  it  was  safe  to  pass  the  nights 
outside  the  fortifications  of  the  strongholds. 

After  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony  of  the  spreading  of  the  mats 
or  nuptial  couch  the  relatives  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom  mutually 
feasted  each  other.  Then  came  the  final  function  called  the  mbuku 
liku  or  the  tying  on  of  the  dress.  Hitherto  the  girl  had  worn  the  long 
straggly  grass  garb  of  maidenhood,  reaching  to  her  knees.  Now  she  was 
invested  with  the  short  thick  liku  of  womanhood.  This  was  the 
N 


194  Marriage  &  Divorce 

most  important  of  all  the  ceremonies  and  was  in  reality  the  woman’s 
marriage  certificate.  Frequently,  in  cases  of  marriage  and  divorce, 
I  had  to  investigate  the  validity  of  old  Fijian  weddings.  I  usually 
called  in  the  assistance  of  my  native  friends.  They  always  found 
that  the  union  was  lawful  and  binding  if  the  liku  had  been  duly  tied. 
The  knot  of  the  girdle,  from  which  the  fringe  depended,  was  made 
on  the  right  side,  and  the  doing  of  it  was  the  public  acknowledgment 
of  the  legal  status  of  a  married  woman. 

This  formal  putting  to  bed  of  a  newly  married  couple  seems  to  be 
an  ancient  and  far-spread  custom.  Smollett,  in  his  Humphrey 
Clinker,  gives  an  account  of  it  at  the  wedding  of  Captain  Lismahago 
and  Miss  Tabitha  Bramble,  when  their  friends  with  much  hilarity 
tucked  them  up  in  the  nuptial  couch.  “  There  he  and  his  consort 
sat  in  state,  like  Saturn  and  Cybele,  while  the  benediction  posset  was 
drunk  ;  and  a  cake  being  broken  over  the  head  of  Mrs.  Tabitha 
Lismahago,  the  fragments  were  distributed  among  the  bystanders, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  ancient  Britons,  on  the  supposition 
that  every  person  who  ate  of  this  hallowed  cake  should  that  night 
have  a  vision  of  the  man  or  woman  Heaven  designed  should  be  his  or 
her  wedded  mate.” 

A  friend  who  studied  in  Germany  in  the  days  of  his  youth  told  me 
that  he  frequently  marched  in  the  processions  after  marriages  there, 
and  assisted  to  tuck  the  happy  couple  in  the  family  four-poster  bed 
of  state.  Subsequently  in  after  life,  when  fate  took  him  to  Burma, 
he  found  a  similar  custom  prevalent  there.  In  Samoa,  one  of 
Fiji’s  neighbouring  groups,  the  first  coming  together  of  husband  and 
wife,  if  of  a  great  chiefly  family,  used  to  be  acclaimed  with  much 
noise  and  hilarity,  and  the  mats  forming  the  nuptial  couch  were  torn 
into  shreds  and  preserved  as  charms.  As  regards  Fiji  the  bringing 
together  of  the  young  couple  and  putting  them  to  bed  formally  was 
a  wise  custom.  When  I  came  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  people 
under  my  charge  they  were  beginning  to  abandon  their  old  habits 
and  adopt  those  provided  by  the  new  state  of  affairs.  Children  were 
still  betrothed  in  infancy  by  their  parents,  and  subsequently  the 
bridegroom  would  obtain  a  marriage  licence  and  the  couple  would 
get  married  in  accordance  with  the  new  law.  After  that  they 
relapsed  into  the  old  custom,  and  each  returned  home  to  their 
parents’  abode  and  did  not  cohabit.  The  old  people  after  having  got 
their  youngsters  duly  married  according  to  the  new  form  neglected 
the  old  ceremony  of  the  mat-spreading,  and  this  omission  led  to  a 
good  deal  of  trouble.  I  found  it  out  through  divorce  court 
proceedings.  Many  of  the  young  husbands  were  modest  and 


Marriage  &  Divorce  195 

diffident  and  took  no  steps  to  approach  their  girlish  wives. 
Bolder  and  more  unscrupulous  men  would  avail  themselves  of  this 
and  take  advantage  of  women  so  neglected.  The  injured  husband 
would  then  perhaps  file  a  petition  for  divorce,  and  it  would  transpire 
that  the  marriage  had  not  been  consummated,  and  the  girl  tired  of 
the  tardiness  and  want  of  enterprise  of  her  lawful  spouse  succumbed 
to  the  wiles  of  a  bolder  lover. 

The  foregoing  is  the  account  of  the  customs  attendant  upon  the 
marriage  of  a  young  Noemalu  man,  the  Ulumatua  or  heir  of  some 
chieflike  family,  with  a  strain  of  Polynesian  blood  derived  from  a 
foreign  ancestor.  The  antithesis  of  such  are  the  Mboumbutho,  a 
purely  Melanesian  clan,  and  the  following  are  the  forms  they 
observed  on  a  similar  occasion  for  an  Uamani  as  they  call  a  young 
chief.  It  was  written  by  Malakai  Navatu,  the  former  Mbuli  or  head 
man  of  these  people,  whose  paper  on  tattooing  I  have  already  sub¬ 
mitted  in  the  last  chapter.  His  descriptions  are  always  quaint  and 
lucid,  so  I  give  here  an  accurate  translation  of  his  disquisition  on 
marriage. 

“  When  an  Uamani  or  eldest  son  desired  to  get  married  he  took  a 
club  to  the  father  of  the  girl  he  wanted.  This  was  called  ‘  The 
club  to  keep  the  road  clear.’  It  was  the  same  as  giving  money  in  the 
present  time  as  an  earnest  or  pledge  of  promise.  The  father  used  to 
give  the  club  to  his  son,  the  brother  of  the  girl,  or  if  he  had  no  son, 
to  the  son  of  his  own  brother,  or  failing  that,  he  kept  it  himself.  The 
club  was  shown  to  the  girl,  but  the  name  of  the  youth,  the  owner 
who  had  presented  it,  was  kept  from  her,  for  did  she  know  she  would 
refuse  him. 

When  the  time  came  for  their  marriage  the  youth’s  family  took 
presents  to  that  of  the  woman.  This  was  called  N aikandavi  or  the 
fetching  of  the  bride.  There  was  much  weeping  and  lamentation 
among  the  women  of  her  village  upon  the  day  she  left,  and  to  console 
her  she  was  generally  accompanied  by  a  young  relation  or  handmaid 
to  the  house  of  her  husband.  A  few  days  after  her  arrival  there  her 
own  people  came  over  in  order  to  present  her  and  other  property  to 
her  husband’s  tribe.  During  this  time  she  remained  anointed  with 
turmeric. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  her  own  relations  at  the  house  they  spread 
mats  and  the  girl  lay  down  upon  them.  She  was  then  covered  with 
folds  of  native  cloth,  a  hundred  fathoms  at  the  very  least  being  used 
for  this  purpose.  When  she  was  quite  concealed  beneath  this  masi, 
her  friends  placed  a  string  of  tambua  or  whale’s  teeth  on  top  of  it, 


196  Marriage  &?  Divorce 

and  made  a  formal  presentation  of  the  heap.  The  father  of  the 
youth  then  laid  his  hands  on  it  and  made  this  speech,  “  I  accept  this, 
that  our  Uamani  may  have  children.” 

The  next  day  the  Uamani’’ s  people  made  a  feast  which  was  called 
the  Soisoikalou  (the  god-like  gathering).  It  was  not  permitted  to  be 
brought  in  baskets  but  had  to  be  carried  on  a  large  wooden  tray 
crowned  with  a  baked  pig  wrapped  up  in  native  cloth.  It  was 
fetched  into  the  house  by  the  Uamani.  He  took  it  to  the  upper  end, 
where  the  bed  was,  and  sat  down  still  facing  the  upper  end,  and 
passed  the  food  to  his  back  or  behind  him.  The  lower  part  of  the 
house  was  filled  by  the  guests,  but  none  of  them  touched  the  food. 
The  bride  then  came  forward  and  placed  it  before  them  and  then 
sat  down  and  clapped  her  hands. 

This  feast  was  made  at  midday,  and  after  it  the  bride  went  and 
bathed  and  washed  away  the  turmeric  with  which  she  had  been 
anointed  by  her  own  relations.  On  the  evening  of  this  day  her 
husband’s  people  applied  a  new  coating  of  oil  and  turmeric.  Then 
she  went  back  to  the  house  and  sat  down  to  have  the  liku  tied  on, 
the  liku  of  vau  (woman’s  dress  made  from  the  fibre  of  a  species  of 
hibiscus).  For  this  purpose  she  knelt  down  with  her  face  towards 
the  upper  or  private  part  of  the  house,  with  her  hands  clasped  above 
her  head  so  that  her  friends  could  tie  the  likus  on.  If  her  friends 
were  numerous  they  would  reach  from  her  waist  to  her  throat. 
The  bridegroom  was  not  present  at  this.  He  waited  outside  till  the 
tying  of  the  liku  was  finished.  Then  he  entered  the  house  rolled 
up  in  folds  of  native  cloth,  a  hundred  fathoms  of  which  formed  his 
turban.  This  trailed  away  in  a  long  streamer  which  was  borne  by 
his  young  companions.  Then  came  the  whole  retinue  of  his  family 
bearing  presents,  and  as  they  entered  the  bride’s  house  they  were 
greeted  by  the  inmates  with  prolonged  shouts  of  “A,  oi,  oi — a,  oi,  oi!” 
Their  offerings  became  the  property  of  the  bride’s  people  and  were 
taken  home  by  them. 

After  this  the  husband  and  wife  remained  apart  often  for  some 
years.  Cohabitation  did  not  take  place  immediately  as  is  lawful  in 
these  times.  The  youth  slept  at  the  Mbure  and  the  maiden  at  her 
house.  It  was  impossible  that  they  could  come  together  for  at  least 
one,  two  or  even  three  years.  It  was  the  custom,  that  if  the  youth 
came  to  the  house  where  the  females  of  his  family  dwelt  to  have  a 
meal,  if  his  wife  were  present,  that  he  should  eat  quickly 
and  leave  immediately  he  had  finished,  in  order  to  show  his 
modesty.  It  was  a  very  strict  custom  ;  he  might  not  even  speak 
to  his  wife. 


Marriage  Divorce  197 

However,  the  time  came  at  last  when  it  was  proper  for  the  youth 
to  speak  to  his  wife.  He  then  took  presents  to  her,  usually  native 
cloth  and  a  whale’s  tooth.  These  she  took  from  his  own  hands 
and  this  was  called  the  ka  ni  veisalaki  or  the  coming  together, 
and  after  that  it  was  lawful  for  them  to  talk  and  have  cheerful 
intercourse. 

Then  they  prepared  to  sleep  together  and  the  Uamani  told  his 
female  relatives  to  prepare  the  house  for  that  purpose,  and  would 
say,  “  Women,  to-day  you  will  spread  the  mats.”  They  then  slept 
together  and  remained  shut  up  in  the  house  for  four  days  and  nights, 
with  all  the  doors  securely  fastened.  Their  food  was  taken  them  by 
the  husband’s  mother.  The  first  morning  she  addressed  her  son  and 
said,  “  My  child  was  it  a  warm  or  a  cold  house  ?  ”  If  the  girl  was  all 
that  she  ought  to  have  been  the  reply  was,  “  Mother,  it  was  a  warm 
house.”  If  otherwise,  the  answer  was  “  cold.”  On  the  fourth  day 
the  couple  went  and  bathed  together.  During  the  time  they  were 
in  the  house  the  youth  kept  his  dress  of  masi  on,  and  the  woman  her 
liku.  They  must  not  be  naked  together.  Also  they  remained  anointed 
with  oil  and  turmeric  for  the  whole  four  days  and  nights. 

And  what  this  youth  did,  so  did  his  son.  Such  was  the  custom  of 
our  forefathers.” 

So  ends  this  particular  narrative  of  Malakai  Navatu,  told  in  his 
own  way. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  in  Noemalu  the  young  husband  made  a 
public  declaration  in  the  Mbure  or  communal  hall  as  to  his  wife’s 
virginity.  It  seemed  usual  to  make  some  open  allusion  to  the  matter, 
and  it  gave  rise  to  the  use  of  satirical  humour.  About  Suva,  when 
I  first  arrived  in  Fiji,  at  the  feast  which  followed  the  consummation 
of  a  wedding,  if  the  lady  was  not  all  that  could  be  desired,  the  food 
was  served  up  in  old  baskets  lined  with  faded  leaves  and  with  the 
bottoms  knocked  out,  and  the  joint,  the  usual  pig  baked  whole,  was 
presented  with  a  plantain  in  its  mouth.  On  the  other  hand,  should 
all  be  correct  the  repast  was  dished  up  on  green  glossy  leaves  in  neat 
clean  baskets.  These  sarcastic  allusions  were  fairly  common  all  over 
Viti  Levu. 

The  absence  of  chastity  did  not  seem  to  be  greatly  resented, 
although  female  honour  was  rigidly  guarded  and  offences  against  it 
savagely  avenged.  The  woman  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  a 
superior  sort  of  chattel,  and  interference  with  her  was  an  offence 
against  property,  which  in  all  countries  seems  to  have  been  more 
severely  dealt  with  than  personal  injury.  Fijians  were  unjustly 


198  Marriage  Divorce 

suspicious  of  their  women’s  honour  as  in  the  rural  districts,  outside 
of  the  entourage  of  the  great  coast  chiefs,  the  social  evil  was  unknown. 
Temperamentally  the  women  are  cold,  but  given  the  opportunity 
they  are  too  good-natured. 

As  already  observed  in  a  previous  chapter,  when  an  injured  husband 
has  just  cause  to  doubt  his  wife’s  chastity  he  does  not  as  a  rule  seek 
redress  in  the  divorce  court,  but  prefers  a  criminal  information 
against  his  rival,  and  upon  the  latter’s  conviction  and  imprisonment 
considers  that  enough  had  been  done  for  honour.  Adultery  and 
larceny  are  synonymous  terms  in  the  Fijian  language,  and  a  com¬ 
plaint  for  the  former  offence  alleges  that  the  respondent  and  co¬ 
respondent  are  mutually  guilty  of  theft,  i.e.  they  have  combined  in 
robbing  the  plaintiff  of  his  just  right. 

Women  are  strictly  brought  up  in  the  faith  that  concealment  of 
illicit  love  will  inevitably  engender  a  long  train  of  ailments  and  bad 
luck,  which  may  be  avoided  by  open  confession.  When  childbirth 
is  difficult  the  sufferer  is  exhorted  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  all  her 
affairs.  When  she  does  not  do  so,  the  midwives  mention  the  names 
of  those  they  suspect,  and  when  at  last  they  utter  that  of  the  real 
father  the  babe  comes  forth  without  further  difficulty.  Illicit  love 
is  as  bad  for  the  man  as  the  woman.  Youths  who  have  had  amours 
are  enjoined  to  confess  before  marriage,  otherwise  they  will  be 
visited  by  a  wasting  sickness  known  as  ndong-ai ,  a  sort  of  general 
debility  or  anasmia.  Both  sexes  are  liable  to  be  visited  by  it.  When 
it  appears  the  grey-heads  of  the  family  ominously  wag  their  hoary 
pates  and  say,  “  Oh,  yes,  ndong-ai .”  A  couple,  whom  for  some 
canonical  reason  the  Wesleyans  refused  to  marry,  came  to  me  to  get 
it  done.  The  bridegroom  was  a  fine  upstanding  young  man  who 
had  done  two  years’  service  in  the  police  and  belonged  to  the  district 
of  Mboumbutho.  About  a  year  afterwards  I  spent  a  night  at  Nasongo, 
his  village,  and  during  it,  Moave,  the  youth  in  question,  died.  Shortly 
before  his  death  he  confessed  to  several  amours,  and  his  chief,  the 
Mbuli  of  the  district,  and  the  other  elders  solemnly  said,  “  Oh,  yes, 
ndong-ai,  when  a  youth  does  not  confess  his  sins  before  marriage  he 
always  dies,  and  so  it  has  been  with  Moave.” 

As  I  have  said  before,  when  Fijians  get  sick  they  magnify  their 
peccadilloes,  and  to  have  winked  at  a  girl  then  becomes  regarded  as 
a  sin.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  youth  and  maidens  of  the  hill  country 
were  in  reality  most  virtuous.  The  boys  were  taught  to  be  continent 
until  the  time  of  their  marriage,  and  so  were  the  girls.  I  have  often 
heard  the  elder  men  talking  of  the  rising  generation,  and  eulogising 
the  young  fellows  as  growing  up  proper  men  of  Tholo,  restraining 


Marriage  &*  Divorce  199 

their  lusts  and  passions  until  the  right  time.  One  could  see  the 
effects  of  their  temperance  in  the  lithe  and  active  bodies,  and  in  their 
proud  and  healthy  bearing.  Moreover,  unlike  their  licentious 
neighbours  to  the  eastward,  the  Polynesians,  they  were  untainted  with 
venereal  diseases.  In  my  time  it  was  practically  unknown,  and  in 
Tholo  or  the  hill  country  it  was  certainly  non-existent. 


CHAPTER  XX 


Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce 

OLD  people  seem  much  the  same  all  over  the  world  in 
railing  at  modern  fashions  and  setting  forth  how  much 
better  they  managed  things  when  they  were  young. 
Senior  officers  always  declaim  that  the  Services  are  going 
to  the  dogs  or  something  worse,  with  brats  coming  into  them  with 
their  new-fangled  ideas  and  ways.  So  it  was  with  the  elders  of  the 
hill  tribes  ;  often  and  often  have  I  heard  them  soliloquise  on  the 
glories  of  bygone  days.  Marriage  was  a  favourite  subject,  and  they 
used  to  sigh  and  shake  their  heads  saying,  “  What  can  you  expect 
when  young  fools  of  girls  are  allowed  to  have  their  own  way  in 
choosing  their  husbands  ;  it  is  only  equalled  by  the  ease  in  which 
the  thaura  vou  (young  men)  can  now  bring  their  marriages  about. 
In  the  time  of  our  youth  marriage  was  marriage,  and  it  was  a  long, 
arduous  and  expensive  business.  Now  a  young  fellow  can  do  the 
whole  job  by  going  down  to  Suva  and  working  for  a  month  on  the 
wharves  discharging  and  loading  steamers.  Then  he  comes  home 
with  a  pound,  and  if  he  is  crafty  brings  a  few  gaudy  stilus  and  a 
vinivoa  (pinafore)  or  two  to  cajole  the  girl  with.  For  a  shilling  he 
gets  a  leaf  of  blue  paper  from  the  native  magistrate,  and  then  off 
they  go  to  the  native  minister  and  get  married  for  another  shilling, 
or  if  he  is  yalo  tha  (badly  disposed)  they  seek  out  the  white  magis¬ 
trate  who  does  the  business  for  them.  How  different  from  the 
knotting  of  the  liku  when  we  were  young  men.” 

The  Wesleyans  were  very  narrow-minded  in  their  views  of  marriage, 
and  for  many  reasons  they  often  refused  to  perform  the  ceremony. 
The  premature  appearance  of  the  baby,  breaches  of  canon  law,  and 
their  own  regulations  were  grounds  of  objection,  and  in  such  cases 
the  parties  had  to  have  recourse  to  the  white  magistrates,  who  by 
registration  could  unite  the  couples.  I  never,  if  I  could  possibly 
help  it,  interfered  with  the  rights  of  Mother  Church,  but  there  were 
times  when  I,  perforce,  had  to  intervene.  Then  I  was  always  careful 
to  give  the  lady  her  marriage  lines  with  a  solemn  exhortation  to  pre- 


200 


Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce  20 1 

serve  them  as  evidence  of  her  respectability,  and  as  having  complied 
with  the  requirements  of  the  law.  I  was  entitled  on  such  occasions 
to  what  the  Government  pompously  called  a  Personal  Emolument, 
the  magnificent  sum  of  one  shilling,  “  for  my  own  personal  use  and 
benefit.”  I  generally  made  it  my  wedding  present  to  the  bride  as  a 
token  of  good  will,  with  wishes  for  her  future  happiness.  In  the 
early  days  of  the  new  law  the  ladies  did  not  sufficiently  regard  the 
importance  of  their  marriage  certificates ;  they  were  but  leaves  of 
blue  paper  and  were  soon  lost.  Subsequently  they  were  more  seriously 
treated  and  could  be  produced  when  necessary. 

In  matrimonial  causes  one  of  the  first  points  to  be  established  is 
the  proof  of  the  marriage,  and  that  is  generally  done  by  the  produc¬ 
tion  of  the  proper  certificate.  It  was  very  obvious  that  in  the  case 
of  old  native  weddings  before  the  introduction  of  reading  and  writ¬ 
ing,  that  could  not  be  done,  and  they  had  to  be  proved  by  oral 
testimony.  It  was  in  investigating  such  that  I  learnt  that  the  mbuku 
liku  or  public  tying  of  the  female  garb  of  married  life  was  the  native 
equivalent  to  our  document  used  in  like  case.  Where  the  certificates 
had  been  lost  it  was  necessary,  too,  to  admit  verbal  evidence,  and  when 
for  a  time  I  acted  as  Resident  Commissioner  in  Tholo  West  I  often 
was  confronted  with  statements  that  the  parties  had  been  married 
vaka  na  kuila,  which  means  according  to  the  flag. 

One  learnt  never  to  be  puzzled  by  Fijian  ideas  and  impressions. 
They  could  generally  be  elucidated  by  patience  and  a  little  question¬ 
ing,  and  by  them  I  dug  out  the  reason  for  the  flag  quotation.  The 
civil  wedding  performed  by  the  white  magistrates  was  but  an  act  of 
registration,  very  humdrum  and  prosaic.  Some  of  the  young  district 
officers  (we  were  all  young  in  those  days)  tried  to  impart  a  little 
romance  to  the  proceeding.  Hugh  Hastings  Romilly,  who  wrote 
From  my  Verandah  in  New  Guinea  and  other  stories  of  the  Western 
Pacific,  was  for  a  while  Acting  Resident  Commissioner  for  Tholo 
West.  That  province  was  the  last  to  emerge  from  the  old  ways, 
and  it  was  there  that  the  last  fighting  occurred,  being  the  scene  of 
“  The  Little  War.”  After  its  pacification  and  the  people  had  begun 
to  follow  the  new  system,  candidates  for  holy  matrimony  applied 
to  Romilly,  who  when  he  had  filled  up  the  forms  and  certificates  used 
to  wave  the  Union  Jack  vigorously  over  the  heads  of  the  newly  united 
couples.  That  was  something  imposing,  and  impressed  the  people 
far  more  than  the  filling  up  and  registering  of  trumpery  leaves  of 
blue  paper,  and  so  the  proceeding  was  popularly  called  “  Marriage 
according  to  the  Flag.”  It  really  was  a  most  happy  inspiration  to  use 
the  glorious  emblem  of  the  British  Peace  in  such  a  manner  for  those 


202  Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce 

who  had  just  emerged  from  cannibalism  and  their  former  wild 
ways. 

Another  magistrate  used  to  join  the  hands  of  the  couples  and  say, 
“  Whom  God  has  joined  together  let  no  man  put  asunder.”  A 
certain  shyness  on  my  part  prevented  me  from  doing  anything  beyond 
the  necessary  registrable  acts,  but  upon  one  occasion  I  was  led  into 
making  what  I  afterwards  thought  was  a  silly  and  theatrical  display, 
but  the  sequel  showed  that  my  native  friends  pronounced  it  to 
be  a  most  handsome  and  imposing  performance,  as  they  quaintly 
put  it. 

In  the  A.N.C.  at  Nandarivatu  was  a  handsome  young  chief  who 
sowed  many  crops  of  wild  oats,  which  from  time  to  time  caused  me 
much  trouble.  He  was  only  in  the  ranks  at  first,  but  attaining  to 
commissioned  rank  he  subsequently  became  my  senior  native  officer, 
and  now,  by  virtue  of  his  rank  and  his  own  intrinsic  ability,  is  the 
Roko  Tui  or  native  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  province  of  his 
birth.  After  I  had  procured  his  promotion  I  gravely  admonished 
him  and  said,  “  Look  here,  I  am  tired  of  getting  you  out  of  your 
many  scrapes.  Now  that  you  are  appointed  to  a  responsible  and 
serious  post  you  had  better  settle  down  and  get  married.  Go  home 
for  a  while  and  see  your  kinsman  the  Roko ,  and  then  come  back  with 
a  lawful  wife.”  The  young  gentleman  departed  on  his  leave  and 
returned  with  a  lady  and  a  letter  from  his  relative  the  Roko,  whom 
he  subsequently  succeeded.  The  letter  was  to  this  effect  :  “  We 
tried  to  get  .  .  .  suitably  married,  and  chose  a  nice  young  girl 
befitting  his  rank  and  position,  but  he  prefers  her  elder  sister,  the 
widow  of  one  of  the  Mbulis  here.  There  has  been  much  talk  and 
disputation  about  it,  so  I  told  him  he  better  take  the  lady  back  with 
him  and  I  beg  you,  Sir,  to  see  that  they  get  properly  married.” 

As  I  always  tried  to  steer  clear  of  interfering  with  the  functions 
of  the  Church  I  sent  the  couple  to  the  nearest  Wesleyan  native 
minister,  but  that  gentleman  thought  he  smelt  a  rat,  and  came  to 
me  and  said  he  would  not  like  to  officiate  until  he  had  communicated 
with  his  superior,  the  white  missionary  in  charge  of  the  circuit.  As 
he  lived  some  distance  away  it  meant  a  considerable  delay.  After 
about  a  fortnight  the  native  minister  again  visited  me  and  produced 
a  letter  from  his  reverend  senior.  It  gave  a  grudging  permission 
for  the  performance  of  the  marriage,  which  was  spoilt  by  a  post¬ 
script,  which  translated  from  the  vernacular  was,  “  Alas,  alas  !  this 
seems  a  terrible  affair,  a  runaway  match  !  ” 

I  could  see  by  his  demeanour  that  the  native  minister  would 
rather  not  proceed  further  in  the  matter,  and  being  nettled  by  the 


Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce  203 

narrow-mindedness  of  his  spiritual  superior,  whom  I  damned  in  my 
own  mind,  I  determined  in  my  civil  capacity  to  solemnise  the 
marriage  myself.  I  was  the  bridegroom’s  C.O.  and  his  friend  also, 
and  I  thought  that  the  event  should  be  marked  by  something  out  of 
the  common,  which  would  also  help  to  enliven  the  monotony  of  our 
solitary  hill  post.  I  therefore  ordered  a  full  dress  parade,  we  draped 
a  table  with  the  Union  Jack  at  the  top  of  the  barrack  room  at  which 
I  stood  arrayed  in  my  best.  The  men  fell  in  with  fixed  bayonets  on 
either  side,  and  up  the  aisle  thus  formed  the  happy  pair  advanced, 
with  the  junior  native  officer  in  support,  as  best  man.  I  joined 
together  the  hands  of  bride  and  bridegroom  and  filled  in  the  certifi¬ 
cates.  Then  the  bugles  sounded  the  General  Salute  and  afterwards 
the  Dismiss,  when  we  adjourned  for  the  wedding  feast  of  baked  pig 
and  yams.  This  was  followed  by  a  cricket  match  in  the  afternoon 
and  a  big  sing-song  in  the  evening,  about  the  sum-total  of  what  we 
could  do  in  the  way  of  amusement  at  that  lonely  spot. 

Afterwards  I  reflected  what  a  silly  ass  I  had  been  to  have  lent 
myself  to  such  a  theatrical  display,  but  I  found  out  eventually  that 
it  had  quite  pleased  the  men.  Subsequently,  when  I  was  on  circuit 
in  the  Soloira  district,  whose  Mbuli  or  head  man  was  the  father  of  our 
junior  lieutenant,  I  saw  a  letter  written  by  the  youth  describing  the 
event  to  his  parent.  I  found  that  it  had  become  popularly  known  as 
vakamau  vakai  valu ,  which  means  marriage  according  to  the  custom 
of  war.  After  describing  it  minutely  he  ended  with  this  :  “  I  would 
have  you  to  know,  Sir,  that  it  was  a  most  handsome  and  imposing 
ceremony,  and  one  that  pleased  us  soldiers  very  much  indeed.” 
Totoka  is  the  Fijian  word  for  handsome,  and  one  they  are  very  fond 
of  using. 

In  the  last  chapter  I  mentioned  that  troubles  arose  from  the 
falling  into  disuse  of  the  old  custom  of  bringing  married  couples 
together  by  the  spreading  of  mats  for  the  nuptial  couch,  especially 
in  the  case  of  bashful  boys,  and  how  bolder  and  unscrupulous  men 
availed  themselves  of  this  state  of  affairs.  As  usual  the  intervention 
of  the  Resident  Commissioner  was  sought,  and  it  was  asked  that  he 
should  compel  by  an  order  the  errant  wives  to  render  themselves 
unto  their  proper  lords.  At  first  there  was  no  law  on  the  subject, 
but  a  great  deal  of  clamour  was  made  in  the  District  and  Provincial 
Councils,  and  so  it  was  brought  under  the  notice  of  the  Supreme 
Government,  and  an  enactment  dealing  with  it  was  passed  by  the 
Native  Regulations  Board.  The  orders  made  under  it  were  about 
as  futile  as  the  decrees  made  here  in  England  in  the  present  time  for 
restitution  of  conjugal  rights.  In  old  Fiji  they  were  compelled  by 


204  Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce 

physical  force,  but  under  a  civilised  regime  they  cannot  so  be  enforced, 
and  the  native  women  soon  discovered  their  emancipation. 

Both  men  and  women  would  go  to  great  extremes  when  they 
thought  they  had  genuine  grievances  to  complain  of,  and  would 
then  even  commit  offences  to  bring  their  cases  under  the  notice  of 
the  authorities.  It  was  nearly  always  fatal  to  accuse  parties  wrong¬ 
fully,  as  the  allegations  were  often  followed  by  the  commission  of 
the  acts  which  were  said  to  have  been  done.  I  have  frequently 
heard  cases  in  which  the  accused  pleaded  guilty,  and  said,  “  So-and-So 
said  I  did  it  and  lied  about  me  ;  it  rankled  in  my  mind  and  I  deter¬ 
mined  that  I  would  give  cause  for  it  and  do  that  with  which  I  was 
charged.”  In  connection  with  this  mental  attitude  I  often  think  of 
that  passage  in  The  School  for  Scandal ,  in  which  Joseph  Surface  says 
to  Lady  Teazle,  “  When  a  husband  entertains  a  groundless  suspicion 
of  his  wife,  and  withdraws  his  confidence  from  her,  the  original 
compact  is  broken,  and  she  owes  it  to  the  honour  of  her  sex  to  endeav¬ 
our  to  outwit  him.” 

Four  or  five  years  after  I  had  got  settled  down  at  Vunindawa  a 
report  was  brought  to  me  that  a  woman  had  cut  off  one  of  her  little 
fingers.  There  is,  I  believe,  an  old  English  statute  against  maiming 
and  self-mutilation.  Now  I  have  forgotten  my  little  stock  of  law, 
but  then  I  was  reading  hard  for  my  admission  to  the  Fijian  Bar,  and 
here  was  an  interesting  case  right  at  hand.  I  discovered  that  the 
elders  and  men  of  a  large  village  had  convened  a  Court  of  their  own 
and  tried  a  woman  for  refusing  to  marry  a  man  to  whom  she  was 
betrothed.  They  sentenced  her  to  be  flogged,  and  carried  their 
decision  into  effect.  The  victim,  with  the  crooked  reasoning  of  her 
country,  cut  off  her  finger  in  order  that  I  should  hear  of  it,  instead  of 
coming  direct  to  me.  I  avenged  the  lady  and  the  outraged  majesty 
of  the  law  by  giving  the  offenders  short  periods  of  hard  labour  on  the 
main  road  across  the  island,  a  section  of  which  I  had  under  construc¬ 
tion  then.  It  was  just  approaching  the  village  where  the  flagellation 
had  taken  place,  and  so  the  old  men  could  sleep  at  home  and  be  fed 
by  their  wives.  The  punishment  suited  native  sentiment  and  caused 
no  expense  to  the  Colony  in  the  way  of  rations,  etc.  It  was  pro¬ 
nounced  to  be  eminently  just.  “  What,”  said  the  local  public,  “  could 
those  people  expect  ?  They  stole  the  prerogative  of  the  Government 
and  held  a  Court  of  their  own  and  flogged  a  woman,  a  double  crime 
for  which  they  ought  to  have  a  double  punishment.” 

I  often  gained  an  insight  into  native  opinion  by  hearing  local  tales 
and  gossip.  A  sprightly  young  friend  looked  in  upon  me  one  morning, 
saying  that  he  had  just  come  up  from  Suva  and  would  like  to  tell  me 


Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce  205 

the  latest  news,  and  then  he  unfolded  this  story  :  “  Whilst  I  was  down 
there,  Sir,  one  of  the  new  mail  steamers  that  run  between  Australia 
and  Canada  came  in.  How  can  I  describe  what  a  magnificent  canoe 
it  was  !  Although  it  came  in  broad  sunlight  the  clouds  of  smoke 
from  its  funnel  made  it  as  dark  as  night,  and  the  street  lamps  had  to 
be  lit  up,  and  so  had  those  in  the  shops  and  houses.  Now  on  board 
of  that  steamer,  Sir,  was  a  vaiamani  (fireman),  a  great  fighting  man, 
an  ndau  ni  mbokisi  (boxer),  and  he  sent  forth  a  challenge  that  he 
would  fight  anyone  in  Suva  for  ten  pounds.  Nobody  took  it  up  and 
the  man  became  very  scornful  and  boastful.  Ratu  Sakiusa,  the 
senior  native  officer  of  the  A.N.C.,  got  very  hot-tempered  at  this 
and  said,  ‘  If  I  were  not  so  old  and  fat  I  would  fight  him  myself.’ 
Somebody  went  and  told  the  fireman  that  Ratu  Sakiusa  accepted  the 
challenge  and  up  he  went  to  the  A.N.C.  barracks  within  the  Governor’s 
compound  at  Nasova.  Then  like  fire  in  a  dry  bamboo  brake  spread 
the  news  that  Ratu  Sakiusa  and  the  man  from  the  steamer  were  going 
to  meet  in  battle.  The  white  gentlemen  shut  up  their  offices  and 
warehouses,  we  of  Viti  and  the  Solomon  Islanders  working  on  the 
wharves  left  our  jobs,  and  up  thronged  everyone  to  the  A.N.C. 
parade  ground,  within  the  fence  of  our  Great  Chief,  the  Governor. 
Mr.  Farewell,  the  Commandant,  looking  forth  from  his  quarters 
saw  the  crowd  and  called  out,  ‘  Ho  !  sergeant  of  the  guard,  what  is 
all  this  ?  ’  and  the  sergeant  said,  4  They  have  come  up,  Sir,  to  see 
the  senior  native  officer  fight  the  fireman.’  The  order  then  was, 
‘  Let  the  big  war  drum  (lali)  be  sounded.’  Then  as  its  notes  wailed 
forth  Mr.  Farewell  shouted,  ‘  Ra  Sotia  (noble  soldiers),  fall  in,  fix 
bayonets  and  charge.’  You  just  ought  to  have  seen  them,  Sir,  how  we 
all  scurried  and  fled,  white  gentlemen  and  all,  and  it  was  lucky  that 
Mr.  Farewell  did  not  give  the  order  for  the  A.N.C.  to  fire  on  us.  He 
would  have  been  quite  right  had  he  done  so,  and  shot  us  all.  We 
were  all  guilty  of  trespassing  within  the  Governor’s  fence,  and  had 
we  been  killed  nothing  could  have  been  said  as  we  were  all  in  the 
wrong  and  the  law  was  against  us.” 

The  next  time  I  met  Farewell  I  told  him  this  yarn  and  found  that 
it  had  a  slight  substratum  of  truth,  added  to  by  my  friend  in  his  love 
of  hyperbole.  It  was  true  that  the  fireman  had  issued  the  challenge 
and  that  Ratu  Sakiusa  had  spoken  as  he  was  said  to  have  done,  and 
that  a  certain  number  of  loafers  had  appeared  on  the  parade  ground 
from  which  they  had  been  ejected  by  an  unarmed  squad. 

A  few  Fijians  from  time  to  time  worked  as  firemen  on  the  big 
steamers,  and  a  certain  sort  of  Freemasonry  sprang  up  between  the 
white  men  so  employed  and  the  native  labourers  on  the  wharves. 


206  Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce 

Ratu  Ambrose,  the  hereditary  Roko  Tui  Suva  or  Chief  of  Suva  was 
a  champion  draught  player,  which  is  also  a  favourite  amusement 
with  the  knights  of  the  stokehold.  In  the  tropics  they  usually  play 
on  one  of  the  hatches,  and  many  matches  came  off  there  between 
them  and  Ambrose,  in  which  they  were  always  worsted.  It  proved 
a  small  gold  mine  to  those  in  the  know.  Those  who  were,  when  they 
came  to  Suva  again  with  a  new  crew  would  say  to  the  greenhorns  if 
Ratu  Ambrose  came  on  board,  “  Hallo,  here’s  that  kuego  who  thinks 
he  can  play  draughts  ;  he  will  beat  you  though.”  Then  a  greenhorn 
would  back  himself  to  win  and  lose  his  money.  Kuego  is  Jack’s  way  of 
pronouncing  ko  iko,  the  Fijian  for  “  you  there,”  the  usual  way  of 
addressing  a  native  whose  name  you  do  not  know,  .equivalent  to  the 
Anglo-Indian  Qui  hai ,  which  has,  I  believe,  the  same  meaning.  I 
have  heard  of  the  mate  of  a  steamer  writing  a  note  to  his  agents  to 
say  that  he  was  shorthanded  and  wanted  some  more  kuegoes  to  help 
with  the  landing. 

In  my  judicial  days  whilst  sitting  on  the  Bench  I  expect  I  should 
have  ruled  out  the  last  two  paragraphs  as  not  being  within  the  four 
corners  of  the  indictment,  but  I  often  found  that  what  was  seemingly 
irrelevant  threw  light  upon  native  methods  of  thought.  I  must  try 
and  tell  you  something  about  divorce.  Much  discussion  has  been 
going  on  about  it  in  our  papers  recently,  and  how  it  should  be  made 
cheaper  and  easier  for  the  poor  man.  In  Fiji  we  had  a  simple  and 
effective  way  of  dealing  with  it.  The  Stipendiary  Magistrates  were 
also  Commissioners  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  as  such  had  jurisdic¬ 
tion  in  cases  of  debt,  breaches  of  contract,  and  trials  of  torts  where 
the  amount  in  dispute  was  under  fifty  pounds,  much  the  same  as  the 
County  Courts  had  when  they  first  came  into  operation.  To  these 
were  added  the  hearing  of  divorce  causes  where  the  parties  were 
either  Fijians  or  Indian  settlers.  The  proceedings  were  very  simple 
and  inexpensive.  The  aggrieved  party  filed  a  petition  setting  forth 
the  relief  sought,  on  which  the  Commissioner  issued  a  summons 
calling  upon  the  other  parties  to  appear  before  his  Court.  Upon 
their  doing  so  the  petition  was  read  and  the  parties  asked  if  they 
would  like  an  adjournment  to  permit  of  their  obtaining  legal  advice. 
I  never  knew  this  asked  for  in  the  case  of  Fijians,  who,  however, 
during  my  whole  experience  did  not  once  sue  for  damages.  On  the 
other  hand,  Indians  delight  in  litigation,  and  both  sides  would  gener¬ 
ally  handsomely  fee  counsel  to  conduct  their  case.  After  taking  the 
evidence  the  depositions  were  forwarded  to  the  Chief  Justice  with  a 
recommendation  from  the  Commissioner  as  to  the  decision  which  he 
thought  would  justly  meet  the  requirements  of  the  case.  Supposing 


Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce  207 

that  he  considered  that  the  marriage  should  be  dissolved  the  Chief 
Justice  returned  his  decree  nisi  that  it  should  be  done  after  three 
months  from  the  date  of  pronouncement,  unless  during  that  time 
sufficient  cause  to  the  contrary  was  shown.  The  Commissioner  then 
summoned  the  parties  again  and  exhibited  the  decree  to  them,  with 
the  great  seal  of  the  Supreme  Court  attached  to  it.  At  the  expira¬ 
tion  of  the  three  months  the  Commissioner  returned  the  decree  nisi 
with  a  regular  form  stating  that  no  cause  against  it  had  been  shown. 
Then  two  decrees  absolute  were  sent  to  him  which  were  handed  to 
the  petitioner  and  the  respondent,  and  thus  the  whole  affair  was 
concluded  without  the  parties  having  to  leave  their  districts  or  fee 
lawyers.  The  filing  of  the  petition  cost  a  pound,  and  that  was  the 
main  expense,  and  the  whole  thing  cost  less  than  thirty  shillings. 
The  great  red  seals  of  the  Supreme  Court  impressed  the  Fijians  very 
much,  who  said  they  were  totoka  sara,  very  handsome. 

I  once  had  a  unique  experience  following  my  hearing  a  divorce 
case  of  which  the  dissolution  was  granted,  and  I  had  handed  the  rules 
absolute  to  the  parties.  Some  months  afterwards  I  was  holding 
Court  at  Rakiraki  in  the  Ra  Province  when  a  man  whom  I  knew 
came  in,  one  of  the  village  mayors  known  as  Turang-a  ni  Koro  or 
Lord  of  the  Village.  Fijians  are  as  punctilious  in  addressing  people 
by  their  titles  as  N.C.O.’s  in  the  Army.  So  I  said,  “  Hallo  !  Turang-a 
ni  Koro,  what  do  you  want  ?  ”  He  replied  somewhat  sheepishly  that 
he  had  come  to  me  to  get  married.  So  I  asked  him  to  produce  the 
licence  from  the  native  magistrate  and  bring  the  girl  in.  He  called 
out  and  she  stepped  into  the  Court  House.  Looking  up  I  ejaculated, 
“By  Jove,  it  is  Vive  !  (Phoebe).”  It  was  his  old  wife  whom  he  had 
but  recently  divorced.  The  Turang-a  ni  Koro  then  explained  that 
they  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  that  business  was  a  mistake, 
that  they  still  loved  each  other  and  could  not  live  apart.  So  they 
came  to  me  to  be  remarried.  I  felt  inclined  to  say,  “  Bless  you,  my 
children.”  As  that  would  have  meant  rather  an  involved  speech  in 
Fijian  I  merely  congratulated  the  couple  upon  their  eminently 
sensible  decision,  and  then  asked  the  gentleman  for  my  personal 
emolument  of  one  shilling,  which  I  destined  for  the  bride,  to  which 
he  said,  “  Hold  on  for  a  minute  or  two,  Sir,  please.  I  have  not  got 
any  money,  but  I  have  got  a  basket  of  pearl  shell ;  be  yalo  vinaka  (of  a 
good  mind)  to  me  and  wait  while  I  slip  over  to  the  white  storekeeper 
and  sell  it.” 

Vive,  as  shown  by  the  bracket,  is  the  native  form  of  Phoebe.  I 
have  often  thought  of  making  a  glossary  of  Biblical  names  as  they 
are  pronounced  by  Fijians.  They  often  used  to  puzzle  me,  and  their 


2o 8  Modern  Marriages,  Matrimony,  Divorce 

unravelling  afforded  a  good  deal  of  amusement.  Most  uncommon 
names  were  selected,  such  as  Boanerges,  which  is  turned  into  V onijese 
and  Sosthenes  and  Tychicus  which  become  respectively  Sosothine  and 
Tikiko.  Priscilla  under  the  form  of  Virisila  is  a  favourite  with 
women,  and  Bernice,  which  is,  however,  pronounced  like  Verynicey. 
I  used  to  find  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  and  St.  Paul’s  Epistles  happy 
hunting  grounds  for  rare  and  recondite  names.  One  blackguard  who 
frequently  came  before  the  Courts  rejoiced  in  the  name  of  Kaiava, 
otherwise  Caiaphas.  Yearly  in  Tholo  East  I  used  to  issue  a  gun 
licence  to  a  youth  named  Tikilathi  V ailisa,  by  which  is  meant 
Tiglath  Pileser.  Roll-call  of  the  A.N.C.  resulted  in  a  string  of  names 
that  would  very  well  have  suited  a  Cromwellian  regiment,  such  as 
Moses,  Obadiah,  David,  Solomon,  Absalom,  etc.,  but  all  with  their 
Fijian  twists  and  turns. 

As  they  impart  their  own  pronunciation  to  our  words  so  do  the 
Fijians  give  their  own  particular  lilt  to  our  music.  They  love  Moody 
and  Sankey’s  hymns,  which  they  render  very  well,  as  they  keep  excel¬ 
lent  time  and  rejoice  in  part-singing.  After  I  got  married  my  wife 
thought  she  would  help  by  playing  the  accompaniments  on  a  small 
organ  to  the  music  given  her  by  the  Reverend  C.  O.  Lelean,  the  head 
of  the  circuit  in  which  we  lived.  But  it  was  in  vain  ;  the  choir  always 
took  charge  and  soared  away  in  many  flourishes  not  provided  in  the 
score.  I  used  to  watch  with  fascination  the  big  toe  of  Sergeant-Major 
Jemesa  beating  time  as  he  led  the  singing  through  the  varied  mazes 
of  Fijian  fancy. 


A  Spirit  Haunted  Tree. 

The  great  ndakua  tree,  or  Fijian  kauri  pine,  where  Timothy,  the  mail  runner,  encountered  tin- 
two  dreadful  yalewa  kalou,  or  goddesses,  whose  love  is  fatal  to  mortal  man. 

Photo  by  Sir  John  Thurston 


A  Wesi  or  Spear  Dance. 

Second  from  right,  front  row,  is  Ndavelevu.  the  old  Nnsongo  Chief,  win >  strangled  his  mother. 
From  a  phitovraph  by  Sir  J<  hit  I  hurs/on 


CHAPTER  XXI 


The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  Death 

jA  FTER  a  disquisition  on  birth  and  marriage  customs  it 
seems  but  natural  to  pass  on  to  death  and  matters  apper- 

. taining  to  the  spiritual  world.  Why  then  drag  in  the 

JL  J^.  Overland  Mail  ?  The  reason  is  that  much  was  learnt 
from  it  about  ghosts  and  tevoro  (devils)  which  used  to  terrify  the 
postmen. 

When  I  went  to  Vunindawa  in  1884  I  used  to  send  a  constable  for 
my  letters  once  a  week  to  Nandurulolo,  the  Resident  Commissioner’s 
headquarters  on  the  Lower  Rewa,  which  was  in  daily  communication 
with  Suva.  That  kept  me  in  touch  with  the  outside  world  and  I  got 
my  papers  and  magazines  regularly.  In  1887,  at  the  Jubilee  Ball 
given  by  the  Governor,  Sir  Charles  Mitchell,  there  was  a  great 
gathering  of  the  members  of  the  Service  from  all  quarters,  and  I  had 
a  talk  with  Basil  Thomson,  the  well-known  head  of  the  C.I.D.  at 
Scotland  Yard,  who  told  me  how  cut  off  he  was,  and  the  long  intervals 
between  the  arrivals  of  his  mails.  He  was  then  stationed  at  Fort 
Carnarvon,  the  headquarters  of  the  Tholo  West  Province.  This 
lonely  and  isolated  spot  had  been  established  by  Sir  Arthur  Gordon 
during  his  “  Little  War,”  and  had  been  named  after  the  Earl  of  Car¬ 
narvon,  who  was  then  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Colonies.  The  place, 
however,  was  generally  known  by  its  Fijian  designation,  Natuatua- 
thoko.  We  had  in  those  days  a  romantic  and  sentimental  Com¬ 
missioner  for  Native  Affairs,  who  expressed  his  emotions  in  poetic 
effusions.  After  a  visit  to  Fort  Carnarvon  he  embalmed  his  feelings 
in  verse,  of  which  I  can  only  recollect  the  opening  lines  : 

“  In  Viti  Levu’s  lonely  heart 
Natuatuathoko  stands  apart.” 

As  the  boundaries  of  Thomson’s  province  marched  with  mine  I 
suggested  that  he  should  arrange  to  have  his  letters  addressed  to  my 
care  so  that  my  man  could  pick  them  up  weekly  at  Nandurulolo, 
when  he  went  down  there  for  the  Tholo  East  mail.  I  could  then 
send  them  on  to  Korolevaleva,  the  bracken-crowned  hill  on  the 
O  209 


2io  The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death 

main  divide,  where  my  mail  carriers  gave  me  the  little  geographical 
lesson  regarding  the  size  of  Viti  Levu,  mentioned  in  Chapter  III. 
There  his  man  could  meet  mine  and  exchange  bags,  and  thus  weekly 
he  could  ensure  a  regular  receipt  of  his  incoming  mail  and  the 
despatch  of  his  outward  letters.  Such  a  simple  arrangement  was 
easily  carried  out,  but  the  Resident  Commissioner  at  Natuatuathoko 
often  went  down  to  the  northern  coast  district  at  Mba  to  assist  in 
magisterial  duties,  so  gradually  the  carriage  of  the  mail  spread  down 
there.  Mba  and  Rakiraki,  some  forty  miles  further  up  the  coast  at 
the  extreme  northern  apex  of  Viti  Levu,  are  large  cane  planting 
districts  with  central  sugar  mills,  and  the  planters  asked  me  to  try 
and  get  their  letters  also  sent  overland. 

In  1887  Fiji  was  nearly  at  its  last  gasp  financially  owing  to  the 
severe  blows  dealt  against  the  sugar  industry  by  the  German  Bounty 
System.  The  Colonial  revenue  declined  with  the  fall  in  the  value  of 
the  staple  product,  and  Sir  Charles  Mitchell  was  sent  out  as  Governor 
to  try  to  cope  with  the  situation.  He  was  a  Colonel  of  Marines,  and 
had  a  great  reputation  as  an  economist,  and  he  proceeded  to  act  up 
to  it  by  ruthlessly  cutting  down  all  the  establishments.  Nearly  half 
the  Service  was  dispensed  with,  and  those  who  were  not  retrenched 
out  of  it  had  their  pay  and  allowances  considerably  shorn.  All 
drawing  more  than  three  hundred  a  year  had  a  tax  of  fifteen  per  cent 
imposed  on  their  salaries,  and  those  under  were  charged  ten  per  cent. 
He  made  such  pessimistic  reports  upon  the  state  of  Fiji  and  such 
gloomy  prognostications  that  the  Colonial  Office  was  in  despair  until 
the  happy  thought  arose  that,  perhaps,  if  Sir  John  Thurston,  who 
thoroughly  understood  the  Islands,  were  appointed,  we  might  be 
able  to  carry  on.  He  was  then  at  Washington  on  diplomatic  business 
connected  with  American  claims  to  lands  in  Fiji.  The  experiment 
was  tried  and  proved  a  complete  success  owing  to  the  indomitable 
pluck  and  perseverance  of  Sir  John,  aided  by  the  scientific  methods 
which  the  sugar  companies  employed  in  the  cultivation  and  manu¬ 
facture  of  that  article.  Gradually  things  got  better,  and  we  in  the 
Service  got  a  refund  of  the  salaries  tax  after  it  had  been  imposed  for 
three  years.  Thus  fortunately  it  only  proved  a  compulsory  saving, 
and  the  lump  sum  returned  was  most  welcome  to  the  poor  hard-ups 
like  myself. 

The  problem  before  me  was  to  run  the  Overland  Mail  without 
any  expenditure  at  all.  I  knew  it  was  no  use  asking  the  Governor 
for  money.  I  had  just  in  the  commencement  of  his  regime  started 
a  little  road-making  on  what  eventually  became  the  main  highway 
across  Viti  Levu.  His  Excellency  heard  of  it  and  sent  for  me,  and 


The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  Death  2 1 1 

said  that  he  was  much  interested  in  the  work.  We  had  next  to  no 
tools,  and  the  earth  cutting  was  being  done  with  digging  sticks.  I 
thought  it  a  favourable  opportunity  to  ask  for  a  few  spades  and  picks. 
The  reply  was  a  great  big  peremptory  No  !  not  a  halfpenny  of  any 
expenditure  would  be  sanctioned.  It  was  equally  hopeless  to  apply 
to  the  Resident  Commissioner  for  assistance.  He  hated  all  innova¬ 
tions,  and  started  at  once  to  growl  at  having  to  receive  Thomson’s 
mails,  and  as  the  system  increased  and  at  last  received  official  cogniz¬ 
ance,  he  charged  me  with  having  initiated  it  without  his  consent  and 
showing  gross  disrespect  by  doing  it  over  his  head. 

But  I  early  learnt  to  be  resourceful,  and  I  mobilised  my  reserves 
and  pressed  the  Lost  Legion,  mentioned  in  Chapter  XIII,  into  the 
Overland  Mail  service.  There  were  always  a  few  stalwart  native 
gentlemen  in  the  Provincial  Jail,  offenders  against  the  seventh  com¬ 
mandment,  who  according  to  their  ideas  were  there  for  the  good  of 
their  souls  and  to  be  purged  of  their  hot  blood.  I  divided  the  mail 
track  into  beats  and  allotted  a  prisoner  to  each.  They  were  looked 
after,  fed  and  housed  by  the  Turang-a  ni  Koro  or  village  mayors  of 
the  places  adjacent  to  their  stations,  who  in  return  for  their  care  of 
the  carriers  were  allowed  to  employ  them  in  their  food  gardens  when 
off  duty. 

The  mail-carrying  demanded  speed  and  regularity,  but  it  only 
really  occupied  a  few  hours  of  the  postmen’s  time.  The  distances  to 
be  covered  were  too  far  from  headquarters  to  allow  of  their  being 
sent  out  each  time  to  their  respective  beats,  and  their  employment 
by  those  who  fed  and  housed  them  was  quite  legitimate  from  the 
point  of  native  custom.  I  spread  my  men  to  my  boundaries,  and  the 
officers  in  the  other  districts  did  the  same  in  theirs,  and  so  we  passed 
the  mails  across  Viti  Levu  with  certainty  and  according  to  the  time¬ 
table  laid  down.  For  twenty-three  years  it  was  under  my  control, 
and  with  one  exception,  about  which  I  hope  presently  to  tell  a  rather 
romantic  story,  it  ran  like  clockwork.  It  was  the  one  regular  postal 
institution  upon  which  the  settlers  relied,  and  by  which  they  swore. 

Part  of  the  carrying  had,  of  course,  to  be  at  night,  and  thereby 
arose  my  first  troubles.  The  men  whose  duty  it  was  then,  protested 
vehemently  against  the  horrors  and  terrors  of  travel  after  dark  from 
the  danger  of  encountering  tevoro  and  ghosts.  I  endeavoured  to  get 
over  that  by  doubling  the  night  carriers,  and  then  I  found  that  the 
rascals,  instead  of  going  together,  halved  the  beats  to  make  soft  and 
easy  jobs.  Fire,  I  discovered,  a  good  blazing  torch  of  bamboo  or 
flaring  bundle  of  dry  reed  stems,  scared  the  evil  spirits  away,  and 
such  were  always  procurable  without  any  cost  to  the  taxpayer. 


212  The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death 

Afterwards,  as  the  public  got  to  appreciate  the  regular  delivery  of 
their  letters,  the  paternal  Government  supplied  hurricane  lanterns 
and  kerosene  oil.  They  were  useful  to  light  the  paths,  but,  to  use  a 
native  idiom,  they  were  not  sufficiently  strong  for  the  devils  to  respect, 
and  so  the  good  old  thina  or  torch  remained  in  vogue  too. 

During  one  of  my  travels  through  Viti  Levu  I  halted  one  night  in 
an  up-country  village.  After  dinner  in  the  big  house  the  people 
came  in  to  pass  the  evening  away  with  yangona  ( kava )  and  conversa¬ 
tion.  Before  long  the  usual  topics  of  the  crops,  the  weather  and  the 
local  gossip  exhausted,  I  endeavoured,  as  was  my  custom,  to  turn 
the  talk  on  to  the  old  folklore.  To  make  a  start  I  asked  if  any  of  my 
audience  had  ever  had  any  experiences  of  tevoro  or  ghosts.  Most  of 
those  present  shook  their  heads  dubiously  ;  they  all  had  heard  of 
and  most  thoroughly  believed  in  them,  but  on  the  whole  were 
inclined  to  think  that  they  had  had  no  personal  adventures  themselves. 

Then  from  the  body  of  the  assembly  a  young  man  named  Timothi 
(anglice  Timothy)  just  recently  discharged  from  the  ranks  of  the 
Lost  Legion  modestly  observed,  “  I,  Sir,  have  seen  tevoro.  I  was  one 
of  the  carriers  on  the  Overland  Mail  which  I  took  at  night  between 
our  Government  station  at  Vunindawa  and  Nambila.  It  arrived 
one  evening  at  seven  as  usual  from  Suva.  The  native  magistrate 
gave  the  bag  to  me  and  told  me  to  go  on  with  it,  and  not  to  light  my 
torch  until  clear  of  the  station,  as  it  was  forbidden  to  carry  naked 
lights  there.  I  went  on  in  the  dark  as  far  as  Ndeleitonga,  the  next 
village,  and  then  lit  up.  When  I  got  to  the  part  of  the  road  where 
the  big  precipice  overhangs  the  river  I  suddenly  felt  my  body  begin 
to  glow  and  burn  all  over,  and  when  I  reached  the  great  ndakua  tree 
I  saw  two  gigantic  goddesses  coming  along  the  road  one  after  the 
other  and  talking  to  each  other.  They  were  very  lovely  and  had  the 
finest  tombe  (love-locks)  I  have  ever  seen,  and  as  they  walked  their 
breasts  flapped  and  flapped  against  their  sides  making  a  loud  and 
dreadful  noise.  I  was  in  the  most  mortal  terror  and  down  I  fell. 
I  tried  to  yell  out  but  my  voice  failed  me.  Then  I  managed  to  get 
on  my  knees  to  say  my  prayers,  but  words  would  not  come.  Then 
I  prayed  inwardly  three  times  and  the  goddesses  fled,  and  I  saw  them 
enter  the  door  of  the  big  Mbure  at  Tau  Levu.  I  staggered  past  it  to 
Nairukuruku  the  next  village  and  managed  to  fling  myself  into  the 
house  of  Manasa. 

Directly  he  saw  me  he  said  this  boy  has  seen  a  tevoro ,  and  asked 
me  if  it  were  not  so,  but  I  could  not  answer  him.  So  he  made  a 
decoction  of  lemon  leaves  and  bathed  me  with  it  and  gave  me  some 
medicine,  which  revived  me,  and  I  told  him  what  I  had  encountered. 


The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death  213 

‘  Oh,  yes,’  said  he,  *  they  were  the  Alewa  Kalou  (goddesses)  whose 
haunt  is  at  the  great  ndakua  tree.’  After  a  while  when  I  felt  better 
I  went  on  with  the  mail  bag  to  the  end  of  my  beat,  and  although  it 
was  pitch  dark  and  I  passed  through  lonely  places  I  saw  no  more 
spirits,  nor  have  I  since  then  seen  any.” 

It  is  quite  thirty  years  since  I  wrote  out  Timothy’s  story,  and  it 
was  not  until  years  after  that  I  saw  Stevenson’s  tale  of  The  Beach  at 
Falesa.  Readers  of  it  will  perhaps  notice  the  similarity  of  Timothi’s 
tevoro  to  the  dreadful  goddesses  that  haunted  the  woods  at  Falesa, 
and  the  direful  effects  on  the  unfortunate  mortals  who  chanced  to 
encounter  them. 

“  Ah  !  ”  said  an  elder  who  had  listened  to  Timothi’s  tale,  “  though 
I  have  never  seen  a  tevoro  I  have  heard  them  called  and  talked  to. 
It  is  done  by  a  custom  called  in  these  parts  the  Luilui.  When  we  found 
a  man  dead  in  the  bush  with  blood  coming  out  of  his  eyes,  ears  and 
mouth  and  yet  with  no  signs  of  violence  on  him  or  about  the  place 
where  he  has  been  found,  we  knew  that  he  had  been  killed  by  a 
tevoro.  Then  we  did  the  Luilui  to  find  out  the  spirit  that  had  done 
the  deed.  It  was  performed  in  this  manner  :  the  body  was  brought 
back  to  the  house  that  used  to  belong  to  it  and  the  friends  all  collected 
together  there  at  night.  Proclamation  was  then  made  in  the  village 
that  everyone  was  to  remain  within  his  house  with  all  doors  shut. 
At  midnight  the  dead  man’s  dearest  friend  climbed  on  to  the  ridge 
of  the  house  where  the  body  was  lying  and  shouted  a  lui  lui  lui,  a  lui 
lui  lui ,  from  whence  the  custom  derived  its  name.  He  had  to  call 
thus  from  each  of  the  four  corners  of  the  house,  until  the  evil  spirit 
of  the  ndakua  who  slew  his  friend  replied  and  acknowledged  the  deed. 
Then  he  challenged  the  tevoro  to  come  and  fight  him  the  next  day 
in  the  village.  ‘  All  right,’  the  reply  would  be,  ‘  I  will  come  and 
serve  you  as  I  did  your  friend.’  Everybody  in  the  village  heard  this 
and  prepared  to  trap  Ra  Tevoro  (Mr.  Devil).  All  the  young  men 
armed  themselves,  in  recent  years  with  guns,  of  old  with  throwing 
clubs,  bows  and  arrows,  slings  and  spears,  and  hid  themselves  in  the 
jungle  along  the  narrow  path  along  which  the  tevoro  must  come. 
Along  it  bowls  of  water  were  spread  because  the  spirit  was  invisible 
and  his  presence  only  denoted  by  the  splashing  of  the  water  as  he 
tramped  through  it.  Then  everybody  let  drive,  but  it  was  not  at  all 
certain  as  to  whether  the  spirit  got  killed,  as  no  one  could  see  it.  We 
had  to  wait  and  see  if  it  played  any  more  pranks.  If  it  did  not,  then 
you  knew  he  had  been  done  for.  All  the  ndakua  trees  are  infested 
with  tevoro ,  and  often  when  we  sleep  out  in  our  gardens  they  come 
and  scratch  on  the  roof  of  the  yam  houses.  If  a  man  is  alone  then, 


214  The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death 

there  is  only  one  thing  to  be  done.  Gather  up  all  the  burning 
embers  of  the  fire,  make  them  into  a  huge  torch  and  bolt  for  home, 
yelling  all  the  way  for  your  friends  to  come  out  and  help  you.  Then 
they  too  turn  out  with  torches  and  with  fire  and  shouts  scare  the  evil 
spirit  away.” 

When  the  first  settlers  at  Suva  landed  in  1870  the  native  town 
stood  where  the  gates  of  Government  House  are  now.  Often  the 
people  there  were  alarmed  by  tevoro  at  night,  and  used  to  fire  muskets, 
beat  their  drums  and  yell.  I  frequently  heard  them  myself,  and  it 
was  quite  a  common  occurrence.  After  we  hoisted  the  Union  Jack 
the  Fijians  were  not  allowed  to  retain  their  firearms,  and  with  the 
growth  of  modern  ideas  they  gradually  calmed  down  and  ceased  their 
night  alarms. 

A  loathsome  complaint  used  to  be  prevalent  in  Fiji  which  the 
natives  call  thoko,  and  which  is  well  known  in  medical  parlance  as 
yaws.  People  afflicted  with  it  are  covered  with  filthy  running  ulcers, 
and  in  that  state  are  positively  dangerous  as  the  disease  is  highly 
contagious.  From  an  erroneous  idea  that  nobody  will  grow  up 
healthy  until  it  has  been  undergone,  parents  like  their  children  to  get 
it  whilst  still  in  their  infancy.  So  far  from  its  being  beneficent  those 
who  have  had  it  suffer  from  the  secondary  symptoms  all  the  days  of 
their  life.  It  is  principally  manifested  on  the  soles  of  their  feet, 
causing  cracks  and  corns.  It  impedes  a  man’s  marching  powers,  and 
it  gave  me  much  trouble  in  my  detachment  of  A.N.C.  A  few  who 
by  lucky  chances  escaped  thoko  were  never  so  afflicted,  and  before  I 
left  Fiji  this  fell  malady  was  well  in  hand,  as  we  had  by  propaganda 
and  education  commenced  to  get  it  under.  It  was  about  the  only 
thing  I  really  feared  in  the  way  of  sickness,  as  all  the  white  men  I 
knew  who  had  caught  it  never  properly  recovered  and  were  broken 
men.  One  of  my  schoolfellows,  who  came  out  on  the  staff  of  Sir 
Arthur  Gordon,  was  unfortunate  enough  to  get  thoko.  He  went 
home  for  a  while  and  came  back  cured,  as  he  thought,  but  it  broke 
out  again  and  he  felt  its  effects  all  his  life. 

After  Timothi  had  told  his  ghost  story  and  we  had  heard  about 
Luilui,  another  man  spun  a  yarn  about  a  dreadful  snag  or  tree-trunk 
washed  down  by  the  river  floods  which  haunted’hhe  adjacent  fords. 
I  am  using  the  plural  advisably,  as  it  was  never  quite  certain  on  which 
one  it  would  be  encountered.  It  was  a  notorious  nuisance  and  had  a 
name  of  its  own,  Nduiseng-ata.  If  anyone,  pressed  by  the  strength 
of  the  current,  knocked  up  against  it,  the  soki,  the  after-effects  of 
thoko,  causing  the  cracks  and  corns  on  the  feet,  would  be  very  virulent, 
and  the  unfortunate  who  touched  it  a  cripple  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 


The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  SP  Death  215 

I  offered  to  blow  it  up  with  a  charge  of  dynamite,  but  was  told  such 
an  effort  would  be  but  in  vain.  It  was  not  a  real  snag  and  only  of  a 
spiritual  nature,  as  it  shifted  about  from  ford  to  ford.  When  I 
suggested  that  this  was  probably  due  to  natural  causes,  and  it  was 
quite  common  for  the  big  tree  trunks  to  be  washed  down  the  rivers 
when  in  flood,  I  was  thrown  out  of  court  altogether,  as  I  was  gravely 
informed  that  as  often  as  not  it  moved  upstream,  notwithstanding 
the  fierceness  of  the  mountain  torrents. 

I  have  an  admirable  picture  of  the  great  ndaku  tree  where  Timothi 
saw  the  goddesses.  It  is  a  conifer,  the  Dammara  vitiensis,  closely 
allied  to  the  Dammara  or  kauri  pine  of  New  Zealand.  These  trees 
grow  tall  and  when  of  mature  age  have  an  immense  girth.  The  one 
in  my  photograph  was  twenty-four  feet  in  circumference  at  the  base. 
It  was  slightly  over  a  mile  from  Vunindawa  on  the  main  road  across 
the  island.  These  ndakua  are  very  bushy  and  leafy,  and  their  strong 
stems  and  stout  boughs  covered  with  orchids  and  thick  with  parasitical 
plants,  lianes  and  other  wild  vines.  In  the  mazes  which  they  form 
lurk  many  tevoro,  and  natives,  if  possible,  give  these  trees  a  wide 
berth  at  night  when  unfortunate  enough  to  be  travelling  alone. 

Kipling’s  “  Overland  Mail,”  except  that  there  are  no  tigers  or 
monkeys  in  Fiji,  fitted  mine  exactly  : 

“  Is  the  torrent  in  spate  ?  He  must  ford  it  or  swim. 

Has  the  rain  wrecked  the  road  f  He  must  climb  by  the  cliff. 
Does  the  tempest  cry  ‘  halt  ’  ?  What  are  tempests  to  him  ? 

The  service  admits  not  a  ‘  but  ’  or  an  ‘  if.’ 

While  the  breath’s  in  his  mouth,  he  must  bear  without  fail, 

In  the  name  of  the  Empress,  the  Overland  Mail.” 

I  suppose,  though,  they  have  done  with  the  Overland  Mail  now. 
As  I  was  writing  these  last  lines  I  received  United  Empire ,  the  Royal 
Colonial  Institute  Journal  for  November,  1921,  from  which  I  append 
this  paragraph  : 

“  FIJI. 

“Aerial  Experiments. — The  Fijian  Government  has  commissioned 
Mr.  Walsh,  of  the  Auckland,  New  Zealand,  Flying  School,  to  experi¬ 
ment  with  a  view  to  establishing  an  aerial  mail  service  in  the  Fijian 
Group.  A  cable  message  has  been  received  from  him  reporting 
that  he  made  a  flight  of  284  miles  round  Viti  Levu  in  270  minutes, 
afterwards  circling  the  island  of  Vanua  Levu  in  the  north  of  the 
group.” 

As  may  have  been  gathered  earlier  in  this  chapter  the  Fijians’ 


216  The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death 

dread  of  ghosts  is  more  simulated  than  real.  Often  when  I  have  been 
in  most  out-of-the-way  places,  far  from  the  beaten  track,  I  have 
been  roused  out  on  dark  nights  by  the  arrival  of  a  solitary  village 
constable  with  my  letters.  Away  from  the  Overland  Mail  route 
letters  were  passed  from  village  to  village  by  the  native  police,  and 
daylight  or  dark,  on  they  had  to  go  in  the  ordinary  course  of  duty 
over  breakneck  paths  which  I  considered  appalling  in  the  full  light  of 
the  sun,  and  it  was  generally  done  by  a  man  alone. 

Yes,  fine  or  fair,  whether  hurricanes  blew  or  floods  obstructed  the 
tracks  as  they  wound  in  and  out  of  the  hill  streams,  the  Overland 
Mail  ran  its  steady  course,  and  only  once  was  it  seriously  interrupted, 
and  then  it  was  by  human  passion  and  not  by  wind  or  weather.  It 
was  in  1893  after  I  had  been  made  Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo 
North  and  had  taken  up  my  quarters  at  Nandarivatu.  I  was  also 
judicial  officer  for  the  Ra  Province,  which  executively  was  adminis¬ 
tered  by  a  native  Roko,  and  was  on  circuit  there  holding  the  Pro¬ 
vincial  Court  at  Nakorotumbu,  in  the  northern  division.  There, 
into  the  big  house  entered  two  hill  men  from  Nasongo  with  a  large 
official  envelope  stuck  in  the  cleft  of  a  stout  stem  of  sina,  the  in¬ 
digenous  spear-grass,  which  is  the  native  manner  of  carrying  letters. 
I  saw  by  the  expression  on  the  bearer’s  face  that  it  was  what  they 
called  a  vola  ni  tha ,  a  letter  of  evil.  It  was  from  the  Mbuli  of 
Mboumbutho,  short  and  to  the  purpose.  “  Our  minds  are  distraught. 
The  Government  mail  is  missing,  the  man  who  carried  it  jumped 
over  the  precipice  opposite  Nasongo  this  morning  and  is  lying  nearly 
dead  in  the  village,  and  the  girl  he  stole  is  not  to  be  found.”  This 
was  followed  post  haste  by  another  despatch  to  say  that  her  body 
had  been  found  dead  in  a  cave  in  the  forest,  where,  too,  the  missing 
mail  bag  was  discovered. 

As  soon  as  I  could  wind  up  the  business  in  hand  I  went  over  to 
Nasongo  to  hold  a  magisterial  inquiry,  as  we  call  inquests  out  there, 
and  to  investigate  the  whole  affair.  Shortly  I  was  told  this,  that  on 
the  day  the  mail  should  have  turned  up  it  was  not  forthcoming, 
and  that  the  people  at  dawn  of  the  next  morning  were  awakened  by 
the  loud  singing  of  a  man  on  the  precipice  opposite  the  village. 
Looking  up  they  saw  Kasere,  the  mail  carrier,  who  belonged  to  them 
and  who  was  in  jail  for  adultery  with  one  of  their  girls.  When  he 
saw  the  people  come  out  of  their  houses  and  look  up  he  shouted  out, 
“  Kinsmen  of  mine,  good-bye,”  and  then  leapt  over  the  grey  cliff, 
there  towering  some  three  hundred  feet  above  the  river  which  flows 
between  it  and  the  village.  But  Providence  was  kind,  and  he  was 
caught  by  the  branches  of  the  trees  which  grow  below,  and  was 


The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death  217 

carried  insensible  into  one  of  the  houses.  There  he  was  still  in  that 
condition  when  I  held  my  inquiry. 

The  people  in  searching  for  the  girl  saw  high  up  on  the  mountain¬ 
side  behind  Nasongo  a  small  white  flag,  and  going  there  found  the 
body  of  the  girl,  strangled  by  a  fold  of  native  cloth  wound  round  her 
throat,  and  her  head  pillowed  upon  the  missing  mail-bag.  When  the 
witnesses  were  before  me  they  were  very  exasperating  and  wanted 
to  tell  me  every  minute  detail.  By  the  time  the  first  had  got  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave  in  giving  his  evidence  I  began  to  get  impatient,  as 
I  had  already  been  made  acquainted  with  the  main  facts,  in  the 
police  report.  So  I  said,  “  When  you  looked  into  the  cave  what  did 
you  see  ?  ”  expecting  that  the  reply  would  be  the  corpse,  the 
identification  of  which  I  was  anxious  should  be  established.  Not  a 
bit ;  the  answer  was,  “  The  Government  Mail,”  and  thereby  my  soul 
obtained  relief.  To  him  the  girl  was  a  ka  wale ,  a  mere  thing,  of  no 
value,  about  which  it  was  absurd  to  make  a  fuss,  but  Her  Majesty’s 
Mail  was  something  which  had  to  be  reckoned  with. 

A  verdict  of  wilful  murder  was  recorded  against  Kasere,  the  mail 
carrier,  and  some  three  months  afterwards,  when  he  had  recovered, 
he  was  tried  before  myself  and  four  native  assessors,  as  in  those  days 
we  did  not  in  Tholo  commit  such  cases  to  the  Supreme  Court,  but 
had  the  proud  privilege  of  hanging  our  own  men.  However,  it  was 
the  only  murder  case  with  which  I  had  such  a  responsibility.  A  good 
few  Indians  were  indicted  before  me  for  that  crime,  who  were, 
however,  finally  dealt  with  in  the  Supreme  Court,  and  all  I  had  to  do 
in  the  matter  was  to  take  the  depositions  and  remit  the  case  to  the 
proper  quarter. 

Kasere’s  case  was  a  remarkable  one.  To  begin  with,  none  of  his 
bones  were  broken,  and  seventeen  years  afterwards,  when  I  left  the 
Colony,  he  was  a  sound  and  hearty  man.  Beyond  the  discovery  of  the 
body  and  the  mail  bag,  of  which  he  was  the  custodian,  there  was  no 
direct  evidence  against  him.  He,  however,  made  a  statement  to  the 
Court  which  amounted  in  legal  terms  to  a  plea  of  confession  and 
avoidance.  He  said  that  he  and  the  girl  loved  each  other,  but  as  he 
was  already  married  their  intercourse  could  only  be  illicit.  They 
therefore  agreed  to  commit  suicide  together.  As  he  approached 
Nasongo  with  the  mail  bag  they  met  and  retired  to  the  cave  in 
the  forest  where  the  girl’s  body  was  found.  She  said  that  she 
would  strangle  herself,  and  that  he  should  do  likewise,  and  wind¬ 
ing  a  piece  of  masi  round  her  throat  accomplished  her  part,  but 
when  he  tried  life  was  too  strong  within  him  and  he  could  not 
manage  it.  To  keep  his  part  of  the  compact  honourably  he  had 


2 1 8  The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death 

jumped  over  the  precipice,  but  fate  had  been  against  him  and  he 
had  failed. 

I  explained  to  the  assessors  that  according  to  English  law  when 
two  people  agreed  to  commit  suicide  together  and  only  one  did  so, 
the  survivor  was  deemed  guilty  of  murder.  I  also  told  them  of  a 
case  that  I  had  investigated  when  I  first  came  up  into  Tholo,  in 
which  a  man  had  been  found  strangled  in  a  small  yam  house  in  the 
bush  and  about  which  I  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  death  was 
self-inflicted,  and  that  it  was  possible  for  a  determined  person  to 
commit  suicide  in  such  a  way.  I  further  set  forth  that  in  returning 
their  verdict  they  should  record  their  opinions  as  to  whether  the  girl 
had  strangled  herself  or  whether  Kasere  had  done  it,  at  the  same 
time  stating  that  I  personally  should  give  him  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt,  as  from  my  experience  in  the  case  I  had  quoted  to  them  I 
thought  it  possible  that  the  girl  might  have  done  it  herself.  Three 
of  the  assessors  found  Kasere  guilty  of  having  murdered  her,  stating 
that  they  were  quite  sure  the  girl  could  not  have  strangled  herself, 
whilst  the  fourth  took  my  view. 

Technically,  according  to  English  law,  Kasere  was  guilty  of 
murder  through  conspiring  to  commit  suicide  with  the  girl,  resulting 
in  her  death,  and  I  sentenced  him  to  be  hanged.  That  could  not  be 
done  until  the  Governor  had  signed  the  death  warrant.  I  sent  in 
my  report  and  asked  that  the  capital  penalty  should  not  be  given 
effect  to,  for  the  reasons  I  have  given  above.  But  I  recommended 
that  in  commuting  the  sentence  he  should  not  be  let  off  too  lightly, 
as  he  had  certainly  been  privy  to  the  death  of  the  girl  and  his  offence 
flagrant.  The  result  was  that  his  sentence  was  altered  to  one  of 
penal  servitude  for  ten  years  to  be  served  in  the  jail  at  Suva,  where 
the  discipline  was  stricter  than  in  the  provincial  prisons.  Convicts 
in  Fiji  at  that  time  could  earn  a  twenty-five  per  cent  remission  of 
their  term  by  good  conduct.  Kasere  apparently  did  not  benefit  by 
this  privilege,  as  I  did  not  see  him  again  for  the  whole  of  his  period. 
At  the  time  of  his  release  I  was  in  England,  and  when  I  came  back  I 
found  that  the  people  of  Nasongo  had  elected  him  as  their  village 
chief  because  they  thought  that  his  sojourn  in  Suva  Jail  had  made 
him  a  man  of  the  world  and  more  capable  of  attending  to  the  white 
gentlemen,  at  they  politely  put  it,  who  came  their  way.  They  lived 
on  the  main  road,  the  first  stage  out  from  Nandarivatu,  and  many 
travellers  passed  through  their  village.  I  made  no  objection  to  the 
new  appointment ;  Kasere  had  atoned  for  his  sins  and  it  was  quite  in 
accordance  with  Fijian  ideas  to  let  bygones  be  bygones,  and  when  I 
left  he  was  a  highly  respected  member  of  the  community. 


The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  &  Death  219 

I  had  not  been  many  months  in  Tholo  before  a  great  deal  of  excite¬ 
ment  was  caused  by  the  return  of  a  woman  from  the  realms  of  death. 
She  died  at  Nasongo  and  was  rolled  up  in  a  shroud  of  mast  around 
which  mats  were  lashed,  the  way  in  which  corpses  are  got  ready  for 
burial.  Her  female  friends  and  relatives  sat  up  and  sang  dirges  in  the 
house  where  she  lay  the  night  before  the  interment.  As  they  were 
doing  so,  in  the  long  and  lonely  hours  before  dawn,  the  body  moved 
and  tried  to  speak.  With  loud  shrieks  of  terror  the  frightened  women 
dashed  into  the  village  square  startling  the  whole  community,  who 
in  their  turn  called  upon  the  V akavuvuli  or  Wesleyan  native  teacher 
to  go  and  still  the  wayward  spirit.  With  fear  and  trembling  he 
crawled  up  to  the  house  in  which  the  corpse  was,  and  with  feeble 
voice  begged  to  be  told  what  the  matter  was.  The  corpse  demanded 
to  be  undone  and  released  from  its  grave  clothes.  This  was  done  and 
she  sat  up  and  this  is  the  story  she  unfolded  : 

“  I  died  and  found  myself  upon  a  beautiful  embanked  and  raised- 
up  road.  It  was  straight  and  broad,  covered  with  smooth  green 
couch-grass,  and  bordered  on  either  side  with  beautiful  croton  and 
dracaena  plants.  Presently  I  arrived  at  a  place  where  stood  two 
policemen — the  one  on  the  right  was  dressed  in  white  and  the  other 
on  the  left  in  black.  Behind  them,  right  and  left,  and  at  a  distance 
of  a  fathom  apart  stood  more  policemen,  those  on  the  right  hand  in 
white  and  those  on  the  left  in  black.  When  I  arrived  there  the  men 
asked  me  where  I  wanted  to  go,  and  I  said,  ‘  Heaven.’  *  Very  good,’ 
they  replied,  ‘  follow  the  path  right  on.’  I  went  along  till  I  came  to 
a  large  village  surrounded  by  high  walls  like  unto  the  looking-glasses 
of  the  vavalang-i,  and  there  at  a  gate  sat  a  man  in  white  clothes  with 
a  great  big  book  before  him  and  in  his  hand  a  pen  of  gold.  He  asked 
me  what  I  had  come  for  and  I  said  that  I  wanted  to  go  to  Heaven. 
Then  he  questioned  me,  ‘  Have  you  always  been  a  faithful  wife  ?  ’ 
I  replied  that  I  had.  Then  he  looked  into  the  book  and  said,  ‘  What 
is  this  I  see  ?  Hell  fire  is  your  portion.’  Before  I  could  do  anything 
more  one  of  the  black-attired  policemen  seized  me  and  threw  me  like 
an  orange  to  the  next  man  along  the  left-hand  side  of  the  road,  and 
so  I  was  thrown  from  black-coated  man  to  black-coated  man  until  I 
came  to  a  great  pit  in  which  was  a  lake  of  fire  in  which  people  were 
swimming  in  torment,  whilst  others  had  ropes  round  their  middles 
by  which  they  were  dangling  in  the  fiery  furnace  below.  The  last 
of  the  men  in  black  at  the  edge  of  the  pit  picked  up  a  rope  and  said, 
‘  This  is  yours,  by  which  you  will  be  lowered  into  Hell.  Now  go 
home  and  tell  your  people,  and  be  back  here  on  Thursday.’  ” 

I  cannot  remember  the  precise  day  on  which  the  woman  came  to 


220  The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  Death 

life  again,  but  she  obeyed  the  behest  given  her  by  the  black-coated 
custodian  of  the  nether  regions  and  departed  this  life  on  the  Thursday 
as  commanded.  It  was  a  nine-days’  wonder,  and  I  was  early  informed 
of  it  by  a  visit  from  my  reverend  friend,  Ratu  Jona  Uluinatheva,  the 
native  minister  at  Nairukuruku.  It  was  the  only  occurrence  of  that 
particular  sort  which  happened  in  my  time.  But  shortly  I  shall  have 
to  tell  of  the  religion  of  the  Tuka,  of  which  Nasongo  was  a  prominent 
centre,  and  of  the  destroying  angels  and  the  ministers  of  healing  who 
made  it  their  headquarters,  with  their  wild  and  fantastic  legends. 

A  good  deal  has  been  written  about  Fijian  death  customs  and  the 
precautions  taken  to  prevent  the  return  of  uneasy  spirits  to  trouble 
the  living.  In  Tholo  I  never  came  across  any  of  them.  The  chief 
source  of  anxiety  in  the  old  devil  times  was  the  fear  that  the  corpse 
might  be  disinterred  and  eaten.  I  think  in  a  great  measure  that  was 
the  reason  why  burials  were  made  in  the  houses,  so  that  the  constant 
presence  of  the  living  could  prevent  such  an  indignity.  The  Noemalu 
people  who  did  not  inter  their  dead  indoors  told  me  that  they  always 
concealed  the  deaths  of  friends  and  relatives  until  they  had  buried 
them,  and  that  they  did  it  at  night  secretly  to  prevent,  if  possible,  the 
violation  of  the  graves.  When  they  told  me  so,  I  remarked  that  it 
was  a  most  horrible  and  disgusting  habit  the  digging  up  and  eating 
of  the  dead.  A  young  man  who  heard  me  said  that  on  the  contrary 
it  was  an  act  of  friendship.  When  I  demanded  his  reason,  and  added 
that  I  could  not  see  anything  in  the  way  of  love  or  friendship,  he 
naively  replied  :  “  It  is  like  this,  suppose  you  know  that  anyone  has 
been  secretly  buried,  you  slip  over  to  your  chum  in  the  next  village 
and  give  him  the  tip,  and  then  he  and  his  friends  go  and  help  them¬ 
selves  to  the  corpse.” 

Ro  Seru,  whom  I  have  mentioned  in  the  opening  chapter  as  having 
so  kindly  offered  one  of  his  wives  to  Mr.  Carew,  was  a  regular  ghoul 
and  used  to  wander  round  the  country-side  looking  for  newly  buried 
people.  It  is  said  that  on  finding  a  grave  he  could  by  listening  tell 
whether  the  body  was  fresh  or  stale  by  the  mutterings  of  the  corpse. 
If  of  recent  interment  the  sounds  were  distinctly  audible,  gradually 
subsiding  into  mere  whispers,  and  then  finally  dying  away  altogether. 
According  to  the  early  missionaries,  human  flesh  was  the  only  animal 
food  which  Fijians  would  eat  when  in  a  state  of  decomposition,  and 
they  would  greedily  partake  of  it  in  any  condition.  This  is  corrobor¬ 
ated  by  what  the  inland  people  told  me  themselves. 

The  Fijians  are  a  most  charming  people,  and  many  of  their  friends 
have  tried  to  make  excuses  for  their  cannibalism,  saying  that  it  was  a 
religious  rite  and  not  often  indulged  in.  In  Tholo  the  subject  was 


The  Overland  Mail,  Ghosts  Death  221 

always  frankly  acknowledged  and  discussed.  I  was  told  that  it  was 
all  very  well  for  the  vavalang-i  chiefs  or  white  gentlemen  to  condemn 
the  eating  of  human  flesh,  because  they  had  plenty  of  sheep,  oxen  and 
other  beasts,  whilst  the  poor  Fijian  had  but  pigs,  which  were  few  in 
number,  and  rats.  As  a  rule  they  said  that  they  lived  on  vegetables, 
but  there  came  a  time  when  they  were  assailed  with  a  fierce  longing 
for  animal  food.  This  great  craving  they  called  kusima ,  and  when 
that  was  on  a  man  the  lust  of  flesh  must  be  satisfied  at  any  cost,  and 
hence  the  desire  for  human  meat. 

Sir  Basil  Thomson,  in  “  The  Last  of  the  Cannibal  Chiefs,”  one  of 
his  South  Sea  Tarns,  puts  the  matter  thus: 

“  The  word  cannibal  is  associated  in  our  minds  with  scenes  of  the 
most  debased  savagery  that  the  imagination  can  picture,  of  men  in 
habits  and  appearance  a  little  lower  than  the  brute ;  of  orgies  the  result 
of  the  most  degrading  religious  superstition.  It  is  not  until  one  has 
lived  on  terms  of  friendship  with  cannibals  that  one  realises  that  the 
practice  is  not  incompatible  with  an  intelligence  and  moral  qualities 
which  command  respect.” 

I  shall  never  forget  the  parting  with  my  old  cannibal  friends.  I  use 
the  word  old  because  the  youth  of  my  districts,  the  rising  generation, 
had  grown  up  under  the  new  dispensation,  which  abhorred  the 
practice.  Just  before  I  left  Nandarivatu  for  good  the  people  of  the 
Yalatina  tribe  came  in  to  take  leave  of  me.  I  was  departing  finally, 
and  they  had  nothing  further  to  hope  for  or  fear  from  me,  yet  nothing 
could  have  been  more  tender  and  affectionate  than  their  farewells. 
Each  brought  me  some  little  native  article  as  their  loloma  or  love  gift, 
and  as  they  gave  them  to  me  they  folded  me  in  their  arms  and  kissed 
me.  I  wanted  to  weep  badly,  especially  when  I  thought  of  the  many 
occasions  in  which  I  had  been  harsh  and  unsympathetic  with  them. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery 
Witchcraft 

LUVE-NI-W AI,  which  may  be  aptly  rendered  in  English  as 
Water  Baby  or  Child  of  the  Water,  is  a  superstition  endemic 
in  Fiji.  The  early  Wesleyan  missionaries  spoke  of  it  in 
tolerant  terms,  saying  that  it  was  free  from  any  pollution  or  licentious¬ 
ness,  but  that  it  encouraged  idleness,  leading  to  neglect  of  the 
cultivation  of  crops,  and  when  the  Vuninduvu,  as  its  priests  were 
called,  were  unskilful  or  over-daring  in  their  tricks,  the  consequences 
were  sometimes  fatal.  In  those  times  the  missionaries  were  too  much 
up  against  things  so  infinitely  worse  that  they  regarded  Luve-ni-wai 
leniently ;  afterwards,  when  they  had  gained  the  day  and  established 
themselves  firmly,  they  denounced  it  as  a  heathen  game  and  demanded 
its  suppression,  and  by  their  perseverance  got  the  native  elders  to 
regard  the  matter  in  the  same  light,  and  they  in  their  turn  reacted  on 
the  Government  and  got  the  practice  made  criminal. 

Old  boys  always  seem  to  forget  that  they  were  young  themselves 
once,  and  the  Fijian  ancients  who  inveighed  against  Luve-ni-wai 
ignored  the  fact  that  they  too,  in  all  probability,  were  members  of 
it  in  the  days  of  their  youth.  It  was  essentially  a  pastime  for  young 
people,  forming  a  sort  of  junior  republic,  an  imperium  in  imperio, 
opposed  to  the  restrictions  and  restraints  of  the  seniors,  who,  as  they 
attained  old  age,  found  it  convenient  to  forget  how  they  too  had 
kicked  against  the  pricks  of  authority.  It  had  all  the  mysteries  of  a 
secret  society,  with  occult  signs  and  ceremonial  so  delightful  to 
juvenile  minds.  In  their  eyes  it  constituted  a  sort  of  Freemasonry, 
jealously  to  be  guarded,  which  made  it  extremely  difficult  to  find  out 
what  it  really  was. 

It  was  composed  mostly  of  minor  chiefs  and  young  people  of 
restless  dispositions  eager  to  make  themselves  important.  Frequently 
young  men  of  high  rank  before  their  accession  to  power  belonged  to 
it,  as  it  gave  them  the  opportunity  of  intriguing  against  and  annoying 
those  in  office.  In  my  time  it  was  the  source  of  much  unrest  and 


222 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery  223 

turbulence,  and  led  to  many  embroilments.  It  alternated  in  Tholo 
East  with  the  Luka,  which  was  a  most  pernicious  and  seditious  super¬ 
stition  intimately  connected  with  ancestral  worship,  human  sacrifices 
and  cannibalism,  to  an  exposition  of  which  I  propose  to  devote  the 
next  chapter. 

Although  the  ordinary  translation  for  Luve-ni-wai  is  Water  Babies, 
in  Tholo  East  it  had  the  meaning  more  of  fauns  or  woodland  fairies. 
The  forest  everywhere  was  peopled  by  them.  They  were  akin  to  the 
V eli  about  which  I  have  said  something  in  a  previous  chapter.  Like 
them  they  were  miniature  men,  very  handsome,  with  large  heads  of 
hair,  such  as  were  worn  in  the  old  devil  days.  Many  of  the  votaries 
told  me  quite  solemnly,  when  trying  to  explain  that  Luve-ni-wai 
was  a  harmless  practice,  that  they  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting  these 
little  creatures  in  the  woods,  who  were  the  ndau  ni  vuthu  or  the  poets 
who  taught  them  songs  and  dances.  The  places  of  these  interviews 
were  generally  little  circles  in  the  forests,  like  our  fairy  rings,  which 
were  weeded,  kept  clean  and  swept  with  magic  fans  to  the  accompani¬ 
ment  of  incantations.  Upon  these  secluded  spots  were  laid  garlands 
and  bunches  of  flowers,  offerings  to  the  woodland  gods.  Members  of 
the  sect  when  joining  it  were  given  new  names,  generally  after  some 
flower  such  as  senilolokula  (bloom  of  the  scarlet  fig),  seniwatambua 
(hoya  or  wax  flower,  of  which  many  beautiful  varieties  are  to  be 
found  in  Fiji),  senitiale  (gardenia),  etc.  Se  is  the  native  word  for 
flower. 

My  first  native  servants  were  named  Avakuki  (Habbakuk)  and 
Vanueli  (Phanuel),  and  the  Resident  Commissioner  always  referred 
to  the  former  as  my  minor  prophet.  He  was  a  handsome  and  engag¬ 
ing  boy,  but  succumbed  to  consumption  whilst  quite  young  and  died 
in  my  service,  to  my  great  sorrow.  When  I  left,  after  twenty-six 
years  in  Tholo,  Vanueli,  who  had  grown  bald  and  had  become  the 
Ovisa  Mbuli  or  Chief  Constable  of  Matailombau,  his  native  district, 
came  to  say  good-bye  to  me.  He  brought  a  toy  ike  or  miniature 
mallet  such  as  the  women  use  in  beating  out  the  bark  from  which  the 
native  cloth  is  made.  It  is  a  handsome  little  thing  made  of  hard 
dark  wood,  and  I  have  it  still.  It  was  a  mere  trifle,  and  he  knew  that 
I  should  refuse  anything  really  valuable,  but  he  wanted  to  give  me 
something  as  a  parting  present.  These  two  were  with  me  in  my  first 
encounters  with  the  Water  Babies,  and  I  asked  them  if  they  belonged 
to  it.  They  laughed  and  confessed  that  they  had  tried  to  raise  the 
devil,  as  they  put  it,  but  had  not  succeeded.  They  told  me  they  had 
hung  their  little  Mbure  in  my  compound,  where  they  slept,  with 
flowers  and  garlands  and  had  swept  the  magic  ring  and  made  the 


224  Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery 

incantations.  But  all  in  vain  ;  the  spirit  had  not  responded,  and  they 
were  denied  the  vision. 

Most  Fijian  customs  are  of  maritime  origin  and  point  to  the 
arrival  of  the  race  from  overseas.  The  ceremony  of  qaloqalovi  or  the 
swimming  out  to  sea  with  bunches  of  tambua  or  whales’  teeth  is  the 
welcome  given  to  chiefs  arriving  in  their  canoes  off  some  friendly 
beach.  These  terms  were  also  used  inland,  and  when  I  arrived  either 
on  foot  or  on  horseback  at  the  villages  I  was  usually  greeted  with  the 
qaloqalovi  or  the  ceremony  of  swimming  off,  and  presented  with 
tambua.  Luve-ni-zvai  is  apparently  also  a  term  of  coast  origin  where 
it  was  believed  that  the  miscarriages  of  ladies  of  rank  became  sprites 
or  water  babies,  and  were  the  origin  of  the  cult.  There  is  an  island 
in  the  Rewa  delta  which  was  said  to  be  peopled  by  the  premature 
offspring  of  the  ladies  of  the  chief  families  of  Rewa,  one  of  the  small 
Fijian  coast  kingdoms  that  obtained  in  the  old  cannibal  times. 

The  native  name  of  New  Zealand  is  1 e  ika  a  Maui  or  the  Fish  of 
Maui,  because  that  god-like  hero  pulled  it  up  with  his  magic  hook 
from  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  He  was  a  veritable  Luve-ni-wai  as  may 
be  gathered  from  Sir  George  Grey’s  Polynesian  Mythology.  There 
in  the  Legend  of  Maui  it  is  recounted  that  when  as  a  small  boy  he 
found  his  way  back  to  his  mother,  she  did  not  at  first  recognise  him, 
and  tried  to  drive  him  from  her  house  and  thus  the  child  remon¬ 
strated  :  “  Very  well,  I’d  better  be  off  then,  for  I  suppose,  as  you  say 
it,  I  must  be  the  child  of  some  other  person  ;  but  indeed  I  did  think 
I  was  your  child  when  I  said  so,  because  I  knew  I  was  born  at  the 
side  of  the  sea,  and  was  thrown  by  you  into  the  foam  of  the  surf, 
after  you  had  wrapped  me  up  in  a  tuft  of  your  hair,  which  you  cut 
for  the  purpose  ;  then  the  seaweed  formed  and  fashioned  me,  as 
caught  in  its  long  tangles  the  ever-heaving  surges  of  the  sea  rolled  me, 
folded  as  I  was  in  them,  from  side  to  side  ;  at  length  the  breezes 
and  squalls  which  blew  from  the  ocean  drifted  me  on  shore  again,  and 
the  soft  jelly-fish  of  the  long  sandy  beaches  rolled  themselves  round 
me  to  protect  me.” 

To  this  there  is  a  footnote  : 

“  If  a  child  was  born  before  its  time,  and  thus  perished  without 
having  known  the  joys  and  pleasure  of  life,  it  was  carefully  buried 
with  peculiar  incantations  and  ceremonies  ;  because  if  cast  into  the 
water,  or  carelessly  thrown  aside,  it  became  a  malicious  being  or 
spirit,  actuated  by  a  particular  antipathy  to  the  human  race,  whom  it 
spitefully  persecuted,  from  having  been  itself  deprived  of  the 
happiness  which  they  enjoyed.  All  their  malicious  deities  had  an 
origin  of  this  kind.” 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery  225 

In  Fiji  I  never  heard  that  these  Luve-ni-wai  or  Water  Babies  were 
malignant ;  on  the  contrary  they  seemed  friendly  little  folk. 

The  further  story  of  Maui  is  too  long  to  give  it  in  its  full  con¬ 
tinuity  ;  suffice  it  to  say  that  the  child  was  found  on  the  seashore  by 
his  divine  ancestor,  Tama-nui-ki-te-Rangi,  who  took  him  home  and 
nurtured  him  and  then  in  the  words  of  the  legend  once  more  : 
“  When  his  mother,  Taranga,  heard  all  this,  she  cried  out :  ‘  You 
dear  little  child,  you  are  indeed  my  last-born,  the  son  of  my  old  age, 
therefore  I  now  tell  you  your  name  shall  be  Maui-tiki-tiki-a-Taranga, 
or  Maui-formed-in-the-top-knot-of-Taranga,’  ”  and  he  was  called 
by  that  name. 

All  this  is  very  Fijian,  and  points  to  a  common  Polynesian  origin. 
Whilst  tiki-tiki  is  the  Maori  for  top-knot,  in  Fijian  it  is  rendered 
teki-teki.  The  latter,  too,  is  a  term  applied  to  the  flowers  which 
both  sexes  so  coquettishly  stick  in  their  hair  with  a  grace  which  seems 
peculiar  to  them,  and  which  sets  them  off  so  well.  A  scarlet  hibiscus 
bloom  behind  the  ear  showing  up  against  the  dark  brown  skin  adds 
greatly  to  the  attraction  of  native  beauties.  All  sorts  of  flowers  are 
used  with  a  light  deft  touch  which  seems  a  natural  instinct.  But  the 
wearing  of  these  decorations  was  strictly  forbidden  in  church  by  the 
Wesleyan  authorities.  I  can  remember  the  beadles,  those  solemnly 
uniformed  Church  officials  in  the  England  of  my  boyhood’s  days, 
who  have  now  seemingly  altogether  disappeared.  I  found  them 
again  in  Fiji  and  they  exist,  I  believe,  at  the  present  time  and  are 
called  Tui  Rara ,  the  old  native  equivalent  of  Master  of  the  Cere¬ 
monies,  which  title  the  early  Wesleyan  missionaries  took  unto  them¬ 
selves  for  the  man  who  kept  order  in  their  assemblies.  Rasoni  was 
the  name  of  the  Tui  Rara  at  Nakorovatu  when  I  first  went  inland.  He 
used  to  strut  about  the  aisles  with  a  steel  ramrod,  which  he  brought 
down  on  the  backs  and  shoulders  of  unruly  boys,  and  as  for  the  girls 
who  came  with  flowers  in  their  hair,  his  ruthless  hands  soon  pulled 
away  those  offending  vanities.  But  he  did  it  once  too  often  in  the  days 
when  Mr.  Carew  was  living  at  Nakorovatu.  One  of  the  maidens  so 
treated  complained  to  him  and  the  Tui  Rara  was  hailed  before  the 
great  man,  fined  and  given  a  scathing  disquisition  on  deportment  and 
manners. 

About  three  miles  above  Vunindawa,  up  stream  of  the  Wainimala, 
is  Serea,  which  used  to  be  the  largest  village  in  Tholo  East,  there 
dwelt  the  Wai  Kalou.  the  senior  division  of  the  great  Soloira  tribe. 
Its  other  clans  lived  on  the  Wai-indina  which  empties  itself  into  the 
Rcwa  just  below  Viria.  Serea  was  so  big  that  it  was  divided  into  three 
parts,  each  with  a  7 'urang-a-ni-koro  or  mayor  of  its  own.  It  was  full 
p 


226  Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery 

of  strapping  boys  and  young  men  when  I  went  to  live  at  Vunindawa 
in  1884.  I  soon  began  to  hear  rumours  that  they  practised  Luve-ni- 
wai ,  about  which  I  knew  nothing  then  and  to  which  I  attributed  no 
importance.  But  whenever  I  had  occasion  to  report  myself  to  the 
Resident  Commissioner  I  was  always  enjoined  to  keep  a  vigilant 
look  out  for  the  superstition.  He  used  to  say  :  “  You  young  fellows 
who  have  just  come  into  the  Service  regard  this  matter  lightly. 
Of  course,  everyone  it  entitled  to  his  own  opinion,  and  mine  is  that 
it  is  most  pernicious  and  to  be  put  down,  if  possible.”  Then  the 
Government  issued  a  circular  asking  us  country  officials  to  make 
inquiries  and  report  on  the  matter.  I  duly  consulted  the  elders  of 
my  district,  who  one  and  all  declaimed  against  the  iniquity  of  it.  The 
Mbuli  of  Matailombau,  my  near  neighbour  at  Nakorovatu,  furnished 
me  by  the  hands  of  his  district  scribe  with  a  written  minute  on  the 
subject,  a  most  interesting  and  illuminating  document.  I  was  fool 
enough  to  send  it  to  the  native  office,  without  keeping  a  copy. 
I  was  duly  complimented  upon  having  procured  so  much  information 
and  then  the  paper  was  pigeon-holed  and  lost.  I  never  could  get 
hold  of  it  again  although  I  often  tried  to,  to  add  its  contents  to  my 
notes.  I  can  recollect,  though,  the  potency  of  the  Mbuli’s  language 
and  his  command  of  invective.  He  said  that  the  V uninduvu ,  the 
priests,  were  a  disgusting,  filthy  and  idle  set,  who  lived  by  their  wits. 
They  placed  bits  of  sticks  in  native  cooking  pots,  gave  them  a  shake 
and  then  turned  out  a  lot  of  fat  eels  for  their  disciples  to  eat. 
Another  feat  was  to  jump  into  one  of  their  earthenware  cooking 
pots  and  float  down  the  river  in  it,  saying  it  was  their  wanga  (canoe). 
This  must  have  been  a  remarkable  exercise  of  legerdemain  or  leger- 
depied,  if  one  may  coin  a  word  to  fit  the  circumstance,  as  although 
some  of  the  Fijian  pots  are  of  a  considerable  size  none  is  big  enough 
to  contain  the  long  legs  and  ample  form  of  a  well-nurtured  V uninduvu. 
They  were  evidently  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  art  of  the 
conjurer,  which  is  not  a  bad  appellation  to  be  applied  to  a  priest  of 
the  Luve-ni-wai ,  and  was  used  by  Kingsley  in  W estward  Ho  !  in 
speaking  of  the  Piache  or  medicine-man  of  the  tribe  whom  Amyas 
Leigh  and  his  fellow  heroes  met  on  the  banks  of  the  Meta.  An 
itinerant  conjurer  of  our  own  race  made  his  way  as  far  inland  as 
Viria.  Some  of  my  Tholo  lads  saw  the  performance,  and  after  they 
had  returned  home  came  and  told  me  that  it  was  absolutely  un¬ 
adulterated  Luve-ni-wai ,  and  added  they,  “  Yet  the  Government 
makes  it  illegal  for  us  to  do  it.” 

The  Soloira  people  were  most  aristocratic  and  spoke  of  their  chiefs 
with  terms  of  double  honour ;  thus  the  head  chief  at  Serea  was 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery  227 

addressed  as  Ro  Ra  Angatha,  which  may  be  translated  as  The  Noble 
Lord  Angatha.  He  was  old  and  venerable,  a  great  friend  of  mine 
for  whom  I  entertained  the  sincerest  respect.  He  was  the  V univalu 
or  fighting  chief  of  his  clan.  Associated  with  him  was  Tui  Waikalou 
or  the  Lord  of  Waikalou,  an  extremely  handsome  old  gentleman. 
They  and  many  others  of  the  elders  waited  upon  me  one  day  and  said 
all  their  young  men  and  boys,  amongst  whom  was  the  son  and  heir 
of  Ro  Ra  Angatha,  were  practising  Luve-ni-wai  and  were  altogether 
out  of  hand,  and  would  I  come  to  the  rescue.  I  arranged  a  near  day 
on  which  to  go  up  to  their  village  and  told  them  to  have  the  boys 
waiting  for  me.  At  the  appointed  time  I  went  up  to  Serea,  accom¬ 
panied  by  Sergeant  Naikasau,  and  found  the  youths  duly  assembled 
in  the  big  Mbure  in  the  presence  of  their  elders.  I  harangued  the 
culprits  and  pointed  out  the  enormity  of  their  offence.  Instead  of 
being  met  in  a  conciliatory  mood  I  and  the  old  men  were  defied, 
and  the  ringleader,  Pita,  replied  with  a  rude  and  inflammatory  speech 
which  roused  what  the  native  called  “  my  hot  spirit.”  I  told  the 
Sergeant  to  clap  the  handcuffs  on  him  and  we  marched  the  whole 
gang,  some  forty-four  in  number,  down  to  Vunindawa.  There  was 
not  room  enough  in  the  Provincial  Jail  and  they  were  camped  in 
the  Court  House.  Neither  building  had  locks  or  keys  and  the  restraint 
was  only  moral.  Having  got  them  there  the  question  was  what  to 
do  with  them,  as  there  was  then  no  specific  law  against  Luve-ni-wai. 
However,  I  thought  that  the  Resident  Commissioner  had  plenary 
powers  to  deal  with  any  emergency,  so  I  made  my  report  to  him  and 
he  came  up  with  all  possible  speed. 

Mr.  Carew  and  the  elders  met  in  solemn  conclave  at  Vunindawa 
and  discussed  the  insubordination  of  the  Serea  Water  Babies,  and  in 
response  to  the  request  of  the  latter  it  was  decided  that  the  youths 
should  be  flogged.  The  station  police  carried  this  into  effect  whilst 
the  parents  and  relatives  of  the  delinquents  stood  around  and  admon¬ 
ished  the  boys  to  grit  their  teeth  and  take  their  punishment  like  men, 
without  howling,  as  befitted  members  of  the  great  Soloira  tribe. 
Unfortunately  the  highest-born  of  them,  the  son  of  their  great  chief, 
Ro  Ra  Angatha,  cried  out  under  the  lash  to  the  shame  and  grief  of 
his  father,  who  was  among  the  spectators. 

That  was  the  end  of  Luve-ni-wai  in  Serea,  and  strange  to  say  ever 
afterwards  I  was  the  best  of  friends  with  the  youths  there,  notwith¬ 
standing  that  I  had  a  very  unpleasant  task  to  perform  in  regard  to 
them.  The  people  there  laid  claim  to  a  large  block  of  land  and  their 
title  was  rejected  almost  altogether  by  the  Resident  Commissioner. 
They  were  only  allowed  a  very  small  portion,  and  the  greater  part  fell 


228  Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery 

to  the  rival  claimants,  who  belonged  to  the  Naitasiri  Province. 
There  was  much  bickering  and  disputing  about  it,  and  to  settle  the 
matter  finally  I  was  directed  to  cut  the  boundary  line.  I  frequently 
had  such  duties  to  do,  and  there  was  always  an  element  of  danger 
about  it,  through  both  sides  turning  out  to  see  the  line  run  and  then 
starting  to  dispute  with  each  other.  On  such  occasions  there  was 
always  the  chance  of  a  free  fight,  but  luck  was  with  me  and  I  generally 
managed  to  get  the  work  done  peaceably.  Carew  used  to  say  that 
Fijians  were  consumed  with  earth  hunger  and  would  go  to  any 
lengths  to  steal  a  few  inches  of  land.  He  was  admittedly  an  authority 
on  such  subjects,  being  a  member  of  the  Lands  Commission  and  of 
the  Executive  Council  when  it  met  to  hear  appeals  on  land  matters. 
Although  the  decision  in  the  Serea  case  was  adverse  to  the  people 
there,  they  were  not  noisy  and  demonstrative  as  in  many  other  parts. 
On  the  contrary  they  treated  me  with  the  greatest  kindness  and 
respect.  Many  years  afterwards,  in  Sir  George  O’Brien’s  time,  the 
question  arose  of  a  fresh  division  of  districts  for  executive  reasons, 
and  it  was  decided  that  Soloira  should  be  attached  to  the  Naitasiri 
Province.  The  Serea  people  petitioned  that  they  might  be  allowed 
to  remain  in  Tholo  East  through  their  personal  attachment  to  myself. 
This  was  acceded  to,  and  only  the  Wai-indina  portion  of  the  tribe 
went  over  to  the  other  province. 

There  were  no  more  Luve-ni-wai  cases  in  Tholo  East  for  six  years. 
In  1890  I  was  sent  to  relieve  the  Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo 
West,  who  was  going  home  on  urgent  private  business.  I  was  there 
for  eight  months,  during  which  time  Tholo  East  was  once  more  left 
solely  to  the  Resident  Commissioner,  who  was  much  too  thronged 
by  his  Lower  Rewa  work  to  be  able  to  look  after  the  hill  districts 
properly.  I  returned  to  find  the  whole  province  saturated  with 
Luve-ni-wai  and  Luka,  and  my  first  duty  was  to  try  the  youths  of 
Nakorovatu,  the  next  door  village  to  Vunindawa,  for  practising  the 
former  superstition.  They  were  so  numerous  that  they  could  not 
be  accommodated  in  the  Court  House,  so  the  Provincial  Court 
which  tried  the  case  sat  in  the  rara  or  public  square  of  the  station. 
Our  Attorney-General,  the  Honourable  J.  S.  Udal  and  his  family, 
were  then  on  a  visit  to  me,  and  he  was  given  a  seat  on  the  bench.  He 
has  written  a  great  deal  on  Dorset  folklore,  and  the  whole  proceeding 
with  its  romantic  setting  of  the  grassy  lawn,  tall  trees  and  the 
Wainimala  flowing  below  appealed  to  him  very  much.  The  V uninduvu 
or  seer  of  the  cult  assured  me  that  he  learnt  the  songs,  dances  and 
ritual  of  the  practice  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  from  a  handsome 
little  V eli  or  fairy.  All  were  found  guilty  and  sentenced  to  three 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery  229 

months’  hard  labour  each,  under  the  Native  Regulation  which  had 
been  enacted  to  cope  with  Luve-ni-wai  and  other  kindred  supersti¬ 
tions. 

All  convicted  that  day  were  employed  in  making  the  bridle  track 
between  the  Wai-indina  and  Visari  on  the  western  shore  of  Suva 
Harbour.  I  went  out  with  them  to  survey  and  lay  out  the  track  and 
practically  lived  amongst  them  during  the  term  of  their  sentence. 
We  dwelt  in  huts  constructed  of  forest  material,  every  now  and  then 
shifting  our  camp,  whilst  I  went  ahead  with  my  Ceylon  road-tracer 
with  some  of  the  local  villagers  as  guides.  I  used  to  return  at  night 
and  sleep  in  the  midst  of  my  Lost  Legion.  I  never  was  treated  with 
the  slightest  disrespect,  and  the  work  was  carried  out  cheerfully. 
Sergeant  Naikasau  superintended  the  earth  cutting.  I  do  not 
suppose  that  Sergeant  Naikasau  had  more  than  one  or  two  con¬ 
stables  at  the  most  with  him. 

As  long  as  one  had  the  slightest  semblance  of  right  and  justice  on 
one’s  side  there  was  nothing  to  be  feared.  Fijians  have  an  innate 
respect  for  fair  dealing,  and  I  early  received  a  rather  strange  illustra¬ 
tion  of  this.  I  was  on  the  Island  of  Kanduvu  for  some  weeks,  having 
been  detained  by  the  non-arrival  of  the  cutter  which  was  to  have  come 
for  me.  The  people  there  are  strongly  impregnated  with  Polynesian 
blood,  and  are  consequently  light-skinned,  good-looking  and  inclined 
to  gaiety.  The  head  chief,  Tui  Na  Theva  (the  Lord  of  the  South), 
assigned  me  his  own  very  handsome  little  sleeping  Mbure  for  my 
quarters,  where  I  was  exceedingly  comfortable.  But  it  would  seem 
that  in  every  paradise  there  is  a  devil,  and  this  was  provided  by  the 
pet  monkey  of  the  chief.  Those  animals  are  not  indigenous  to  Fiji, 
and  this  particular  one  had  been  left  by  a  passing  whaler.  He  was 
an  arrant  thief  and  nightly  visited  the  houses  in  the  village  to  steal 
food.  I  saw  him  one  day  chase  a  girl  across  the  rara  or  public  square 
and  catch  her  by  the  heel,  which  he  bit.  I  said  he  was  a  beast  of  a 
monkey  and  why  was  he  not  killed.  “  What  !  ”  was  the  reply. 
“  Kill  the  chief’s  pet  ?  Impossible  !  ”  The  little  brute  went  to 
Church  on  Sundays  and  sat  on  the  reading  desk  or  pulpit  alongside 
of  the  V akavuvuli  or  native  teacher  whom  he  mimicked  with  an  open 
book  in  his  hands  which  he  pretended  to  read.  Under  his  arm  he 
carried  a  cane  which  he  used  for  the  benefit  of  the  dogs  who  followed 
their  owners  to  divine  service.  When  any  of  these  began  a  fight, 
Jako,  as  he  was  called,  slowly  and  solemnly  descended  from  the 
pulpit,  and  selecting  one  of  the  dogs  drove  it  outside.  The  people 
said  that  Ra  Mangey  or  Mr.  Monkey  was  a  just  beast,  as  he  always 
knew  the  dog  that  started  the  row  and  turned  him  out  only.  I 


230  Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery 

attended  some  of  the  services  and  saw  his  antics.  I  was  not  so 
charitable  and  thought  him  an  unmitigated  nuisance.  That  was 
because  he  stole  my  biscuits  and  other  .eatables.  There  were  two 
entrances  to  my  Mbure,  but  no  doors  for  them.  When  I  retired  to 
rest  Mr.  Monkey  used  to  come  and  peep  round  the  corner  of  one  of 
the  doorways  ;  then  I  let  drive  at  him  with  a  missile  of  some  sort  or 
other.  Then  he  would  go  and  squint  round  the  other  entrance,  and 
so  on  till  I  fell  asleep,  when  he  would  come  in  and  help  himself. 
He  was  cunning  enough  not  to  attempt  to  molest  me,  as  he  recognised 
instinctively  that  I  should  not  scruple  to  retaliate,  and  as  the  natives 
put  it  “  had  no  regard  for  his  master’s  authority  which  he  bore  on 
his  shoulders.”  I  was  under  a  different  mana  or  power. 

About  Suva  monkeys  were  called  eng-eli,  which  is  also  the  local 
name  for  the  V eli  or  fairies.  When  they  saw  a  monkey  for  the  first 
time  they  at  once  said  it  was  akin  to  their  woodland  sprites. 

After  the  Resident  Commissioner  had  made  his  report  as  to  how 
he  had  dealt  with  the  Serea  Luve-ni-wai  he  was  very  considerably 
worried  by  the  Acting  Governor,  who  was  then  Dr.,  afterwards  Sir 
William  Macgregor.  He  said  that  Mr.  Carew  had  exceeded  his  powers 
and  that  such  drastic  punishment  should  not  have  been  inflicted. 
Subsequently,  as  the  Mission  authorities  and  the  old  Fijians  con¬ 
tinued  to  declaim  against  the  practice,  a  Native  Regulation  was 
passed  making  it  illegal  and  the  ringleaders  of  it  subject  to  imprison¬ 
ment  not  exceeding  six  months  with  hard  labour,  and  their  followers 
to  periods  of  three  months  and  under. 

It  is  now,  1921,  thirty-six  years  ago  since  the  Serea  affair,  and 
looking  down  that  long  vista  and  after  much  reflection,  I  think  that 
we  took  a  wrong  view  of  the  Luve-ni-wai.  There  was  no  need  to 
regard  it  so  seriously,  as,  in  my  opinion,  it  was  not  really  seditious.  It 
led  the  boys  to  be  cheeky  and  insubordinate,  and  to  a  certain  amount 
of  larceny.  They  and  their  leaders  wanted  to  be  sumptuously  regaled, 
and  the  flocks  and  herds  of  the  settlers  and  the  pigsties  and  fowl 
roosts  of  their  own  people  suffered  in  consequence.  These  repasts 
always  reminded  me  of  the  forbidden  but  delightful  bedroom  feasts 
of  my  own  school  days.  I  cannot  recall  having  to  steal  for  them,  but 
it  took  some  ingenuity  to  smuggle  in  the  prohibited  provisions. 

There  were  plenty  of  Native  Regulations  against  insubordination, 
disobedience  and  any  sort  of  disturbance.  In  fact,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  Fijians  were  tied  hand  and  foot  by  all  sorts  of  enactments. 
That,  however,  was  their  own  fault,  as  they  hold  endless  councils 
and  are  fond  of  passing  laws  for  themselves.  We  did  not  need 
anything  special  against  Luve-ni-wai,  and  could  have  kept  the  naughty 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery  231 

boys  in  order  with  what  had  been  provided  previously.  Anyway, 
we  failed  to  stamp  it  out,  and  in  my  last  letters  from  Fiji  I  heard 
that  it  was  still  going  on  in  my  old  districts.  I  think  there  is  not 
much  harm  in  it  as  long  as  the  votaries  refrain  from  picking  and 
stealing  and  are  duly  respectful  to  their  elders,  and  there  is  certainly 
a  fair  element  of  romance  and  poetry  about  it. 

It  was  thought  by  some  that  Luve-ni-wai  was  the  outcome  of  the 
work  provided  by  the  Devil  for  idle  hands.  When,  therefore,  many 
of  the  village  youths  took  to  cricket  in  some  of  the  districts,  I  hoped 
that  they  were  finding  an  outlet  for  their  superfluous  energy  and, 
when  requested,  gladly  consented  to  become  president  of  the  clubs 
and  to  subscribe  to  them.  They  blossomed  forth  with  gorgeous 
uniforms,  generally  scarlet,  and  it  was  observed  that  nearly  all  the 
members  had  some  sort  of  a  badge  on  their  right  arm,  corresponding 
somewhat  to  the  stripes  and  chevrons  of  non-commissioned  officers, 
though  no  two  were  alike.  Inquiry  elicited  that  the  clubs  had 
become  sorts  of  guilds,  with  books,  registers,  codes  of  signals,  etc., 
and  that  the  badges  were  for  the  captain,  or  elder  of  the  guild,  as  he 
was  called,  for  the  secretary,  for  the  treasurer,  for  the  chief  of  the 
outer  circle  and  for  the  chief  of  the  inner  circle.  The  two  latter  were 
for  the  arrangement  of  the  internal  economy  and  external  policy  ; 
in  fact,  a  Home  Secretary  and  Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs.  There 
was  another  office,  too,  which  to  the  bewildered  outsider  could  only 
be  translated  as  “  Lord  High  Admiral.”  One  could  only  at  first 
think  that  the  lines  of  Artemus  Ward’s  celebrated  volunteer  corps 
were  being  followed,  where,  to  prevent  jealousy,  all  the  members  were 
Major-Generals. 

Suspicion  soon  arose  that  the  clubs  were  being  used  as  a  cloak  for 
the  Luve-ni-zvai ,  and  in  one  district  the  members  decided  to  emanci¬ 
pate  themselves  from  the  thrall  of  British  rule.  With  a  sincere 
imitation  of  it  they  elected  a  Governor,  Chief  Justice,  Chief  Secre¬ 
tary,  and  a  host  of  other  officials.  But  a  kingdom  divided  against 
itself  cannot  stand,  and  the  weaker  has  to  go  to  the  wall,  and  the  new 
regime  retired  awhile  for  meditation  in  the  quiet  and  calm  of  the 
Provincial  Jail. 

The  play  of  these  clubs  was  as  strange  as  their  general  administra¬ 
tion  and  policy.  At  Nandarivatu  the  game  was  played  en  regie,  and 
everything  went  smoothly  till  the  village  clubs  came  up  for  matches. 
One  of  the  set  ideas  of  the  latter  was  that  the  crack  bowler  was  the 
bowler,  and  by  prescriptive  right.  In  fact,  he  was  regarded  as  the 
Lord  High  Bowler,  and  as  soon  as  the  over  was  finished  he  went  on 
again  at  the  other  end.  He  not  infrequently  shied,  and  it  was 


232  Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery 

considered  grossly  unfair  to  score  such  efforts  as  no-balls,  and  defeats 
were  generally  ascribed  to  the  partial  decisions  of  an  adverse  umpire. 
At  a  match,  a  recent  settler  in  the  district,  an  English  public  school 
man,  was  put  on  to  umpire,  and  proceeded  according  to  established 
rules.  His  conduct  very  gravely  disturbed  the  equanimity  of  the 
visiting  team,  and  it  was  requested  that  one  of  their  side,  who  really 
did  understand  the  game,  might  replace  him. 

Happy-go-lucky  is  the  great  maxim  of  native  life  and  stands  out 
everywhere.  One  of  the  Inspectors  of  the  Colonial  Sugar  Refining 
Company,  the  great  Australian  Corporation  to  whose  enterprise 
Fiji  owes  so  much,  told  me  he  was  going  up  the  Rewa  in  one  of  their 
steam  launches.  It  was  the  slowest  in  the  fleet,  but  as  he  sat  in  the  bows 
in  an  easy  chair  reading  the  papers,  he  found  that  it  was  slowly  but 
surely  overhauling  the  fastest.  He  went  aft  to  look  at  the  engine 
and  found  out  that  the  Fijian  boy  who  was  driving  it  had  compressed 
the  safety-valve  down  with  a  crowbar.  My  friend  got  very  excited 
and  said,  “  We  may  be  blown  to  smithereens  at  any  moment,”  and 
remonstrated  violently  with  the  youthful  driver.  “  V eitalia ”  (never 
mind),  retorted  he  ;  “  who  cares  as  long  as  we  beat  the  other  boat.” 

Even  at  Nandarivatu,  where  there  were  always  English  officers, 
it  was  hard  to  keep  the  comic  element  out  of  our  cricket.  When  a 
duffer  went  to  the  wicket  the  field  would  pretend  that  he  was  a 
turtle  and  that  they  were  the  fishers  and  would  feign  to  encircle 
him  with  the  net  and  would  intone  the  chant  with  which  they  haul  it. 
They  were  mighty  sloggers,  too,  and  smashed  bats  wholesale.  A 
boy’s  ordinary  bat  cost  five  shillings  in  Sydney  in  those  days,  and  by 
the  time  we  got  it  after  freight,  duty,  etc.,  it  stood  us  in  seven 
shillings  at  least.  That  was  a  month’s  pay  of  a  private  in  the  A.N.C., 
and  it  did  not  leave  much  for  club  subscriptions,  so  we  were  always 
in  a  state  of  chronic  bankruptcy.  Some  of  the  men  played  really  well, 
and  I  tried  to  reserve  the  best  bats  for  them,  but  that  design  was 
killed  by  ridicule.  When  a  wicket  fell  and  the  next  man  followed  on 
in  our  Saturday  afternoon  pick-up  matches,  he  would  be  politely 
offered  one  of  the  good  bats,  and  if  he  were  not  one  of  the  elite,  he 
would  say,  “  Oh,  no  ;  that  is  the  tambu-tara  (forbidden  to  be  touched) 
and  is  not  for  the  likes  of  me.  Here,  give  me  the  vavakoso  (all  sorts 
and  conditions)  bat  ;  that  is  the  sort  of  chap  I  am  !  ” 

It  is  a  far  cry,  doubtless,  from  cricket  to  witchcraft,  but  our 
national  game  got  mixed  up  with  Luve-ni-wai,  which  is  made  up 
of  mystery  and  magic,  and  in  the  native  mind  is  very  much  akin  to 
ndrau-ni-kau ,  the  Fijian  for  sorcery  and  its  affiliated  practices. 
In  English  the  word  means  simply  the  leaf  of  the  tree.  That  is  because 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery  233 

all  incantations  and  spells  are  formed  from  leaves  in  different  shapes 
and  forms. 

The  old  beach-combers  used  solemnly  to  assert  that  the  Fijians 
were  adept  poisoners,  and  they  succeeded  in  impressing  some  of  our 
early  writers  with  their  views.  I  read  in  one  of  their  books,  I  forget 
which,  that  when  one  wished  to  be  rid  of  an  enemy  the  intervention 
of  a  professional  poisoner  was  sought  who  contrived  to  introduce 
something  noxious  into  the  victim’s  food,  which  speedily  sent  him 
on  his  way  to  the  next  world.  That  was  not  the  way  the  matai 
drau-ni-kau  (skilled  herbalist)  worked.  The  usual  manner  was  to 
get  a  collection  of  leaves  together,  and  other  things,  some  of  the 
latter  pretty  filthy,  mix  them  up  and  put  them  in  a  small  hollow 
bamboo.  That  was  generally  planted  under  the  door-sill  of  a  house, 
so  as  to  show  a  disturbance  in  the  soil  there.  The  owners  would 
at  once  know  what  had  happened,  and  digging  would  find  the 
spell.  Then  the  person  whom  it  was  supposed  to  be  intended  for 
would  take  to  his  bed,  with  his  face  to  the  wall  and  in  all  probability 
die  of  fright.  That  was  the  common  form,  and  I  have  tried  many 
professional  sorcerers  for  it.  Early  in  the  day  we  found  out  what 
a  disturbing  and  dangerous  doctrine  witchcraft  was,  as  it  led  to 
fights  and  reprisals,  so  much  so  that  a  very  drastic  Native  Regulation 
was  enacted,  under  which  the  wizards  could  be  awarded  forty  lashes 
and  two  years’  hard  labour. 

I  heard  my  first  case  of  ndrau-ni-kau  very  soon  after  I  took  up  my 
quarters  at  Vunindawa.  The  accused  was  a  very  powerful  and 
much-feared  practitioner  of  the  art,  who  lived  in  the  district  of 
Nailenga  on  the  Upper  Wainimbuka.  Whilst  it  was  being  tried  the 
Court  adjourned  at  noon  for  the  usual  recess.  I  was  taking  a  brief 
rest  in  my  bungalow  when  one  of  my  young  constables  rushed  up 
with  wide-opened  eyes  distended  like  saucers  and  said,  “  Saka  ”  (Sir), 
“  all  of  us  on  this  station  are  going  to  die.  I  saw  the  wizard  put  two 
packets  of  leaves  in  the  ditch  round  the  jail,  and  that  will  kill  us 
all.”  I  got  him  to  show  me  the  place  where  this  dire  deed  had  been 
done.  He  would  not  come  near,  but  pointed  it  out  from  afar,  and 
there  I  found  two  little  packets  of  dried  leaves  neatly  packed  one 
upon  another.  I  picked  them  up  and  took  them  to  my  house, 
where  they  lay  on  my  table  for  some  time.  The  accused  told  me  that 
he  was  only  using  them  medicinally,  and  that  as  they  had  done  their 
work  he  just  threw  them  away.  However,  they  did  not  enter  into 
his  case,  and  he  was  convicted  of  the  offence  upon  which  he  had 
been  originally  indicted. 

There  are  many  forms  of  witchcraft,  one  of  which  is  called  the 


234  Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery 

“  Spell  of  the  Plantain.”  In  that  case  a  sucker  is  procured,  which  is 
taken  to  some  lonely  spot  in  the  forest  and  planted  at  night  by  the 
light  of  a  full  moon.  It  is  put  into  the  ground  with  many  spells 
and  incantations,  and  with  many  curses  on  the  victim  whom  it  is  to 
affect.  It  is  clubbed,  speared  and  knocked  about,  and  as  it  suffers 
so  will  also  the  person  it  represents.  Nightly  it  is  visited  and  sub¬ 
jected  to  further  tortures,  and  as  it  wilts  and  dies  so  will  the  creature 
for  whom  it  undergoes  this  evil  treatment.  Old  Ndavelevu,  who 
confessed  to  having  strangled  his  mother,  told  me  of  this  particular 
incantation.  He  was  always  in  mortal  fear  of  spells  and  used  to 
remind  me  of  the  nigger  in  Huckleberry  Finn ,  who  went  about 
with  his  woolly  hair  plaited  up  into  little  wisps  in  his  efforts  to  scare 
witches  away. 

These  sorcerers  were  useful  sometimes.  One  of  the  planters 
on  the  Ra  coast  had  a  large  grove  of  coco-nut  trees.  They  do  not 
flourish  very  well  on  Viti  Levu,  although  they  do  on  the  other 
islands,  and  copra  or  their  dried  kernels  is  a  very  large  Fijian  export. 
As  they  were  a  bit  scarce  on  Viti  Levu,  the  natives  used  to  help 
themselves  to  the  planter’s  nuts,  and  he  never  could  catch  any  of 
the  thieves.  He  was  a  cute,  longheaded  Yankee,  and  it  struck  him 
that  he  would  call  in  a  sorcerer  to  his  aid.  There  was  one  quite 
handy  who  was  the  owner  of  a  spell  called  ndrimu.  That  is  the 
name  of  a  painful  skin  disease  akin  to  eczema,  and  anyone  coming 
under  this  particular  incantation  got  the  disease.  After  that  the 
palm  grove  was  left  untouched. 

During  the  time  I  was  acting  Stipendiary  Magistrate  at  Mba 
there  was  a  professor  of  ndrau-ni-kau  who  gained  quite  a  reputation 
with  the  Indian  coolies.  They  call  magic  and  sorcery  jadu,  and  the 
man  who  practises  it  jadugar.  Just  before  I  was  stationed  there  the 
store  of  an  Indian  trader  had  been  burgled,  and  the  police  quite 
failed  to  detect  the  culprits.  The  owner  was  a  Madrasi,  and  the 
only  one  of  two  natives  of  Hindustan  whom  I  ever  knew  to  have 
Fijian  wives.  Universally  they  despised  the  natives,  whom  they 
called  jangali,  and  to  such  an  extent  that  they  never  even  formed 
temporary  liaisons  with  them.  In  this  case  the  wife  advised  her 
husband  to  consult  the  local  sorcerer.  It  happened  that  the  robbery 
had  been  committed  by  Fijians,  and  the  professor  was  able  to  give 
the  correct  tip  and  the  thieves  were  apprehended  and  convicted. 
For  a  while  the  jadugar  had  a  long  Indian  clientele,  but  the  bubble 
soon  broke,  as  he  never  afterwards  gave  any  useful  information. 

There  was  one  poisonous  plant  which  the  Fijians  occasionally 
used  on  the  northern  coasts.  It  is  called  Icengyengye,  to  which 


Fijian  Water  Babies,  Cricket,  Sorcery  235 

love-sick  damsels,  who  fancied  themselves  tired  of  this  life,  resorted, 
with  not  much  faith,  however,  as  they  generally  supplemented  it 
with  soap-suds  and  tobacco  juice  from  which  they  made  a  horrible 
decoction.  It  caused  violent  vomiting,  and  that,  I  suppose,  was  the 
reason  it  hardly  ever  proved  fatal.  I  only  knew  of  one  case  in  which 
it  was  supposed  to  have  been  so — a  girl  of  Waikumbukumbu,  the 
village  at  the  foot  of  the  hills  upon  which  Nandarivatu  stands.  As 
there  was  no  doctor  available  for  a  post-mortem  it  was  uncertain 
if  it  was  really  the  cause  of  death  in  that  instance.  As  far  as  I  know, 
it  was  only  used  in  self-administered  cases,  although  one  day,  when 
I  was  walking  with  a  local  chief,  he  stooped  down  and  picked  a 
piece  of  the  plant  and  showed  it  to  me,  saying,  “  That  is  what  we 
give  to  people  to  whom  we  are  badly  disposed,  and  it  does  for  them.” 
I  investigated  attempts  at  suicide  from  it,  but  never  any  other  case 
of  poisoning,  so  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that,  like  the  phantom 
black  snakes  that  troubled  the  people  of  Rewasau,  Fijian  poisonings 
were  only  spiritual,  not  real,  and  chemical  analysis  would  fail  to 
discover  any  ground  for  suspicion  that  death  was  due  to  poison. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal 


THE  Serea  Luve-ni-wai  event  occurred  in  the  early  months 
of  1885  and  for  some  little  while  after  what  the  Fijians 
call  sautu  prevailed — that  is,  peace  and  plenty.  With 
them  there  is  no  peace  unless  accompanied  by  plenty, 
and  a  proper  plenty  means  profusion.  No  great  gathering  or  feast 
was  considered  a  success  unless  much  of  the  food  was  wasted  and 
the  locality  where  it  was  held  stank  with  the  refuse.  With  their 
love  of  hyperbole,  that  was  the  way  they  put  the  matter.  I  once 
met  a  strange  Fijian  and  got  into  conversation  with  him  about 
his  village  and  asked  him  what  sort  of  a  place  it  was.  “  Oh  !  ” 
replied  he,  “  it  is  magnificent  ;  you  cannot  step  outside  the  houses 
without  sinking  knee-deep  into  pig-dung  !  ”  Pigs,  as  has  already 
been  remarked,  are  one  of  the  chief  treasures  of  the  native,  and  my 
new  acquaintance  wanted  to  impress  me  with  the  wealth  and 
importance  of  his  birthplace. 

Then  rumours  began  to  come  through  that  all  was  not  well  in  the 
district  of  Muaira  concerning  which  the  Resident  Commissioner 
always  had  some  misgivings,  and  frequently  told  me  that  they  were 
a  wild  and  turbulent  lot,  having  taken  part  in  the  fighting  against 
the  troops  of  King  Thakombau  just  before  we  hoisted  our  flag  in 
1874.  The  Mbuli  or  head  man  had  forsaken  his  lawful  spouse  and 
taken  up  with  a  young  girl  to  the  great  scandal  of  the  free  and 
independent  electors.  The  native  magistrate  at  Narokorokoyawa 
wrote  to  say  that  the  injured  wife  had  impleaded  her  offending 
husband  in  the  Provincial  Court  and  would  I  come  up  and  try  the 
case  with  him.  We  arranged  to  meet  at  Undu,  in  the  Muaira 
District,  at  the  junction  of  the  Wainimala  and  Wailoa  Rivers  and 
hold  the  sessions  there.  I  started  off  in  my  takia ,  the  “  Causer 

236 


Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal  237 

of  Sleep,”  in  a  leisurely  manner  one  afternoon  and  put  up  with 
my  friend  Ratu  Jona,  the  native  minister  at  Nairukuruku,  eight  miles 
up  stream.  There  I  received  a  letter  from  the  Wesleyan  teacher  at 
Undu  to  say  that  strange  things  had  been  occurring,  that  a  body  of 
troops,  the  followers  of  one  Navosavakandua,  had  come  over  from 
the  adjoining  province  of  Ra  and  had  been  undergoing  a  course  of 
drill  under  certain  satini,  which  is  the  Fijian  adaptation  of  our  word 
sergeant.  I  had  not  heard  of  the  gentleman  before,  and  so  began  to 
make  inquiries  and  found  out  that  he  was  a  prophet  of  sorts  gifted 
with  great  mystic  and  occult  powers,  able  at  any  time  to  separate  his 
spirit  from  his  body,  and  leaving  the  latter  in  his  native  home  visit 
other  places  in  his  astral  form.  It  was  the  time  of  Madame  Blav- 
atsky,  of  whom  a  good  deal  had  appeared  in  the  old  Saturday  Review , 
which  in  those  days  I  used  to  read  regularly.  There  seemed  much 
resemblance  between  what  she  preached  and  that  which  Navosava¬ 
kandua  was  said  to  be  doing.  I  despatched  a  special  messenger  to  the 
Resident  Commissioner  immediately  to  ask  whether  he  could  give 
any  information  as  to  this  (to  me)  newly  risen  star. 

The  reply  was  prompt  and  decisive ;  yes,  the  Commissioner  knew 
the  gentleman  quite  well,  that  he  was  extremely  dangerous  and 
wanted  watching  closely.  He  was  the  exponent  of  a  new  doctrine 
that  the  world  would  be  shortly  tavuki,  which  is  the  Fijian  for  being 
turned  upside-down,  and  when  that  occurred  all  existing  affairs 
would  be  reversed ;  the  whites  would  serve  the  natives,  the  chiefs 
would  become  the  common  people  and  the  latter  would  take  their 
places.  Some  time  previously  he  had  inflamed  the  interior  of  Viti 
Levu  with  these  ideas,  creating  great  excitement,  and  almost  causing 
the  cessation  of  ordinary  work  and  routine  in  the  expectation  of 
that  great  and  wondrous  day  when  the  world  would  be  judged.  As 
will  be  shown  presently  he  had  compounded  a  new  religion  of  the 
old  Fijian  myths  and  what  he  had  read  in  the  Bible. 

I  found  Undu  thronged  with  all  the  chiefs  and  notables  of  Lomai 
Tholo,  the  name  for  the  confederation  of  the  five  clans  which 
occupied  the  dead-central  region  of  Viti  Levu.  Such  an  event  as 
the  trial  of  one  of  their  Mbulis  was  not  to  be  missed,  and  the  whole 
place  was  agog  with  excitement.  Although  the  Wesleyan  teacher 
stoutly  maintained  that  troops  owing  allegiance  to  the  great  Navosa¬ 
vakandua  had  been  drilling  there  the  villagers  averred  that  what  he 
had  seen  were  merely  ordinary  dances  performed  by  visitors,  friends 
and  kinsmen  from  the  Ra  Province.  I  knew  that  the  V akavuvuli  or 
teacher  was  telling  me  the  truth,  and  I  wondered  what  would  happen 
when  it  came  to  the  trial  of  the  Chief  of  Muaira,  as  the  teaching  of 


238  Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal 

Navosavakandua  was  distinctly  inimical  to  the  Government,  and  I 
did  not  know  how  far  the  Mbuli's  followers  might  be  infected 
with  it. 

The  case  came  on  and  the  Mbuli  entered  with  his  paramour,  the 
former  with  a  good  deal  of  swagger  and  bluster,  and  the  latter  proud 
of  her  conquest  of  the  principal  notability  of  those  parts.  She  was 
bedecked  with  much  native  finery  and  flaunted  the  amber  mouth¬ 
piece  of  a  pipe  in  the  slit  of  her  ear,  the  gift  of  her  high-born  lover. 
Both  pleaded  guilty  to  the  information  filed  against  them,  and 
Vuthang-o,  the  male  delinquent,  was  sentenced  to  a  year’s  hard 
labour  in  Suva  Jail,  the  maximum  penalty,  to  show  that  the  law  was 
no  respecter  of  persons  and  that  the  offence  of  one  in  high  authority, 
as  he  was,  had  to  be  dealt  with  more  stringently. 

The  Court  then  adjourned  in  order  that  the  state  of  affairs  in 
Muaira  might  be  dealt  with.  The  Resident  Commissioner  had  given 
me  instructions  as  to  what  was  to  be  done  in  the  case  of  a  conviction. 
I  convened  an  assembly  of  the  notables  and  installed  Roko  Tui  Vuna, 
the  cousin  of  the  deposed  man,  as  Mbuli  Muaira.  He  was  acclaimed 
as  the  head  man  and  remained  in  that  position  until  I  left  Fiji  in 
1910,  a  period  of  twenty-five  years,  subsequently  retiring  upon  a 
pension. 

To  allay  excitement  and  any  possible  display  of  sympathy  I 
ordered  the  removal  of  Vuthang-o  to  Vunindawa  at  once  on  the 
first  stage  of  his  journey  to  Suva.  He  went  off  on  a  takia  like  a  lamb, 
accompanied  by  two  constables.  My  youngest  brother,  who  was 
but  a  boy  and  was  on  a  visit  to  me,  went  in  the  same  canoe.  I  did 
not  know  what  was  ahead  of  me  and  I  wanted  to  get  him  safely 
away.  He  was  most  indignant  to  think  that  a  man  should  be  sent 
to  jail  for  an  affair  with  a  lady,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  the  couple  as 
they  walked  out  of  the  village  together  to  the  point  of  embarkation 
was  that  they  were  fraternising,  and  en  route  they  became  the  best  of 
friends.  Vuthang-o  did  his  year,  and  on  his  return  settled  down  as  a 
country  gentleman  and  never  gave  me  any  more  trouble,  in  fact 
afterwards,  in  our  noisy  and  factious  little  local  parliaments,  I 
could  always  count  upon  his  support  in  measures  that  I  wished 
to  carry. 

We  finished  up  our  general  jail  delivery,  and  I  set  to  work  to 
try  and  find  out  something  about  the  emissaries  of  Navosavakandua, 
who  had  lately  visited  Undu.  Nobody  would  tell  me  anything,  but 
I  held  on  and  remained  doggedly  there.  I  was  having  my  morning 
dip  in  the  Wailoa  one  day  when  the  Turang-a  ni  koro  or  village 
head  man  announced  that  he  had  come  to  make  a  full  breast  of  the 


Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal  239 

affair.  Evidently  he  had  become  frightened  and  wanted  to  get 
his  tale  in  first,  before  anyone  else  could  give  information.  Yes, 
it  was  quite  true,  those  that  had  been  at  Undu  were  sotia  (soldiers) 
of  Navosavakandua,  drilled  by  their  satini  or  sergeants,  who  had 
come  over  to  spread  his  doctrine. 

This  was  called  the  Tuka,  which  is  derived  from  the  verb  tu, 
to  stand  upright,  and  ka ,  a  thing,  and  means  that  which  stands  for 
ever  and  hence  immortality.  Most  words  denoting  force  and  power 
contain  some  form  of  tu,  such  as  nitu ,  a  god,  or  that  which  per¬ 
petually  stands ;  tui,  a  king ;  ratu,  a  lord ;  turanga,  a  chief,  and  a 
long  string  of  others  too  numerous  for  mention. 

Navosavakandua  means  “  he  who  speaks  but  once,”  and  is  the 
term  applied  by  the  Fijians  to  the  Chief  Justice,  as  there  is  no 
appeal  against  his  decision,  and  he  alone  sentences  men  to  death, 
and  he  is  considered  as  an  awful  and  dread  personage.  Sir  Fielding 
and  Lady  Clarke  came  to  visit  me  in  1888  when  he  was  our  Chief 
Justice,  just  prior  to  his  departure  to  Hong  Kong.  They  went  with 
me  to  the  morning  service  one  Sunday  at  Nakorovatu  and  the  church 
was  simply  packed  with  men,  women  and  children,  many  of  the 
latter  being  babies  in  arms  who  squalled  outrageously.  When  we 
came  out  I  asked  the  Mbuli  why  we  had  been  so  thronged,  and  the 
reason  of  the  presence  of  so  many  infants.  “  Oh  !  ”  replied  he, 
“  they  all  wanted  to  see  the  gentleman  who  holds  the  breath  of 
life  in  his  hands  and  at  whose  command  people  five  or  die.  The 
mothers  could  not  leave  their  babies  and  were  determined  not  to 
lose  the  wondrous  sight,  and  so  brought  them  along  with  them.” 
I  think  it  will  have  been  gathered  that  it  does  not  take  long  to 
make  a  myth  in  Fiji,  as  witness  the  story  of  the  prize-fight  on  the 
A.N.C.  parade  ground,  and  the  arrival  of  the  new  mail-steamer  the 
smoke  from  whose  funnels  turned  day  into  night.  Another  greatly- 
to-be-feared  official  came  to  stop  with  me,  the  Superintendent  of 
Prisons,  who  was  also  Governor  of  Suva  Jail  and  High  Sheriff  of  the 
Colony,  and  as  such  responsible  for  the  hanging  of  those  upon 
whom  the  sentence  of  death  had  been  passed.  We  went  out  for  a 
walk  together  and  came  upon  a  body  of  tribesmen  road-making, 
who  immediately  stopped  working  and  gazed  intently  upon  my 
companion.  I  observed  that  my  native  lieutenant,  Naikasau,  who 
had  by  that  time  attained  commissioned  rank,  was  indulging  in  a 
quiet  snigger  and  I  asked  him  what  the  joke  was.  He  said  that 
everybody  was  most  interested  in  the  strange  gentleman  with  me, 
as  he  it  was  who  spoke  the  awful  words  that  sent  men  to  their  doom 
by  the  use  of  one  particular  phrase.  I  asked  what  that  might  be 


24°  Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal 

and  was  told,  “  Let  go  !  ”  My  friend  Milne  told  me  that  that  was 
simply  a  myth,  as  on  such  occasions  he  never  spoke  a  word  but  just 
dropped  a  handkerchief  as  a  signal  for  the  drop  to  fall. 

The  real  name  of  the  prophet  of  the  T-uka  was  Ndoongumoy,  but 
from  his  supposed  infallibility,  Navosavakandua,  the  title  of  the 
Chief  Justice  was  also  conferred  upon  him,  and  by  it  he  was  univers¬ 
ally  known.  Before  my  arrival  in  Tholo  he  had  been  deported  to 
one  of  the  smaller  islands  for  a  period  of  two  years  for  disturbing 
the  peace  of  the  Queen’s  lieges  in  the  hill  country  of  Viti  Levu. 
That  term  had  expired,  and  he  had  come  home  with  still  more 
wondrous  tales  than  he  had  spread  before.  He  said  that  the  Govern¬ 
ment  tried  to  put  him  to  death  but  in  vain  ;  his  divine  mana  (power) 
had  always  come  to  his  rescue  and  saved  him.  So  at  last  it  had 
given  up  the  struggle,  but  during  his  return  voyage  it  made  one 
last  attempt.  When  full  abreast  of  Nakauvandra,  the  Sacred 
Mount,  they  bound  him  to  the  anchor  of  the  inter-insular  steamer 
on  which  he  was  with  the  chain  cable,  which  was  also  twined  round 
his  neck.  So  encumbered  he  had  been  cast  into  the  sea,  but  he 
swam  ashore  at  Natuilau,  one  of  the  northern  points  of  Viti  Levu, 
and  from  thence  had  walked  inland  to  his  native  village  in  the 
vicinity  quite  unscathed. 

He  promised  eternal  life  to  those  who  would  follow  him,  and 
that  they  should  never  know  death.  Those  who  were  already 
old  were  promised  the  renewal  of  youth,  the  return  of  desire, 
and  perpetual  pleasure  on  the  great  day  in  which  the  world  should 
be  turned  upside-down.  That  was  at  hand,  and  all  those  who 
did  not  believe  on  him  would  become  the  slaves  and  servants  of 
his  faithful  disciples.  He  was  the  herald  of  two  of  the  ancient 
chiefs  of  Fiji,  the  sons  of  Rokola,  the  carpenter-god,  who  had  built 
the  T amunamuna,  the  first  canoe,  on  which  had  sailed  away  his 
boys  into  the  vast  and  unknown  ocean  to  escape  the  wrath  of  the 
Ndeng-ei,  the  great  serpent  god.  The  Bible  was  true,  but  the 
missionaries  had  deceived  the  people  by  talking  about  Jehovah  and 
Jesus  Christ,  their  real  names  being  Nathirikaumoli  and  Nakala- 
sambaria,  and  on  their  return  they  would  bruise  the  head  of  Ndeng-ei, 
who  was  in  reality  the  old  serpent  the  Devil.  Their  advent  was 
imminent,  said  Navosavakandua,  and  the  white  men  knew  it,  and 
one  had  only  to  watch  them  to  see  how  anxious  they  were.  They 
were  always  looking  through  telescopes  pretending  to  survey  land, 
but  in  reality  they  were  looking  out  for  the  return  of  the  young 
gods.  The  officers  of  H.M.S.  Alacrity  were  then  charting  the 
northern  coast  near  to  the  prophet’s  home,  and  whilst  the  surveyors 


Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal  241 

ashore  pretended  to  measure  land  the  little  man-of-war  watched 
the  shores.  It  would  take  a  whole  book  to  recount  the  farrago  of 
nonsense  he  talked,  all  of  which  was  implicitly  believed  by  the 
simple  hill-folk.  I  only  heard  of  one  man,  a  coast  chief,  the  Mbuli 
of  Tavua,  treating  the  matter  with  any  degree  of  sanity.  When 
he  was  visited  by  some  of  the  prophet’s  preachers  he  took  a  plate 
and  smashed  it  into  little  pieces.  Then  he  turned  to  the  recounters 
of  the  miracles  performed  by  their  head  and  said,  “  By  a  word 
restore  that  plate  to  its  original  condition  and  I  will  become  one  of 
your  followers.” 

It  is  difficult  to  discriminate  between  grim  earnest  and  childish¬ 
ness  in  many  phases  of  Fijian  life,  and  I  have  never  been  able  to 
make  up  my  mind  as  to  these  soldiers  of  the  prophet,  whether  he 
expected  any  real  material  support  from  them  or  whether  they 
were  merely  part  of  a  great  game.  They  were  armed  only  with 
clubs  and  spears,  but  Navosavakandua’s  destroying  angels  were 
reputed  to  be  able  to  call  down  fire  from  heaven  and  so  destroy 
their  enemies.  One  of  those  who  turned  Queen’s  evidence  told  me 
that  these  awful  personages  used  to  recount  their  visions  of  clouds 
full  of  flaming  chariots.  I  asked  him  what  a  chariot  was  like  as  I 
knew  that  the  ordinary  Fijian  had  not  the  faintest  conception  of 
such  a  thing.  My  informant  scratched  his  head  and  replied  that  he 
did  not  know  but  that  it  was  part  of  the  business.  It  reminded  me 
of  a  sermon  I  heard  in  a  remote  part  of  Tholo  on  the  death  of 
Absalom.  I  have  already  told  about  one,  but  this  is  another  in  which 
the  preacher  said  :  “  Now  Absalom  was  riding  a  mule ;  what  sort  of 
a  thing  that  is  I  do  not  know,  but  I  am  given  to  understand  that  it 
is  an  animal  that  jumps.” 

There  is  one  of  our  institutions  that  Fijians  greatly  admire  and 
that  is  military  drill.  Their  own  war  dances  consist  of  evolutions 
carried  out  by  word  of  command,  and  their  handling  of  spear  and 
club  resembles  somewhat  our  manual  exercises.  When  enlisted  in  the 
regular  force  of  the  Colony  they  learnt  the  drill  speedily,  and 
delighted  in  it.  I  have  heard  frequently  recruits  in  the  barracks 
drilling  each  other  at  night  time,  and  so  they  went  on  until  abso¬ 
lutely  perfect.  More  especially  do  they  excel  in  the  bayonet 
exercise.  In  1895  Nandarivatu  was  visited  by  Sir  Henry  Berkeley, 
the  Acting  Governor,  who  came  round  in  H.M.S.  Pylades  with 
Captain  Adams,  R.N.  They  rode  up  from  the  coast  on  our  hill 
ponies  and  were,  of  course,  received  with  the  customary  guard  of 
honour,  and  subsequently  there  was  a  review  and  an  inspection  of 
our  little  force.  Sixteen  years  after  I  met  Captain  Adams  in  his 
Q 


242  Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal 

home  in  Devonshire,  and  he  pulled  out  an  old  diary  and  read  from 
it  :  “  Inspected  the  Armed  Native  Constabulary  at  Nandarivatu. 
They  did  the  bayonet  exercise  as  well  as  the  Marines,  which  is 
saying  not  a  little.”  His  comment  to  me  was  that  a  long  interval  had 
elapsed  since  the  occurrence,  but  that  the  extract  he  had  read  was 
the  impression  made  upon  him  at  the  time. 

The  young  N.C.O’s.  of  the  A.N.C.  were  the  acme  of  smartness 
and  greatly  admired  by  their  fellow  countrymen  and  women,  and 
to  be  a  sergeant  was  the  ambition  of  the  ordinary  youth,  and 
Navosavakandua  was  in  all  probability  urged  by  his  followers  to 
have  something  to  show  off  with.  It  was  quite  feasible  barring  the 
rifles,  uniform  and  equipment,  as  many  of  his  votaries  had  done 
their  terms  of  service  in  the  ranks  of  the  A.N.C.  and  knew  company 
drill  perfectly.  The  natives  everywhere  have  adopted  the  military 
salute  as  their  method  of  showing  respect,  and  I  used  to  be  accorded 
it  with  variations  wherever  I  went.  I  was  much  amused  one  day 
by  the  arrival  of  Mbamba,  whom  I  had  sent  to  jail  and  who  rose  to  be 
the  chief  messenger  in  the  Colonial  Secretary’s  Office,  as  mentioned 
in  a  previous  chapter.  After  his  return  home  he  was  made  the  Chief 
Constable  of  Mboumbutho  and  turned  up  with  some  reports  whilst 
I  was  out  road  surveying  with  a  small  party  of  A.N.C.  He  strode 
up  to  me  and  at  the  regulation  four  paces  delivered  the  salute  with 
proper  precision.  Afterwards  we  broke  off  for  lunch,  and  as  we 
sat  taking  it  amidst  the  bracken  I  heard  a  conversation  going  on 
evidently  intended  for  my  benefit.  Said  one  man  :  “  Who  was 
that  fellow  who  came  up  and  saluted  as  if  he  were  one  of  us  ?  ” — 
“  Oh  !  ”  answered  another,  “  I  think  I  have  seen  him  in  Suva 
carrying  about  the  Colonial  Secretary’s  letters.”  “  Well,  what 
right  has  he  to  give  the  military  salute  ?  Does  not  every  one  know 
that  it  is  the  special  privilege  of  the  A.N.C.  conferred  by  our  Great 
Chief  the  Governor  ?  If  our  officers  will  not  take  the  matter  up, 
why  we  men  must  give  the  offenders  something  to  remember 
us  by.” 

Having  procured  the  name  of  those  who  were  illegally  drilling 
at  Undu,  in  the  lightness  of  my  heart  and  inexperience  I  issued 
warrants  for  their  arrest  and  turned  out  th t  posse  comitatus ,  otherwise 
the  village  police  of  Lomai  Tholo,  to  effect  the  arrests,  whilst  I 
with  my  two  regular  constables  remained  in  reserve.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  local  levies  returned  with  their  tails  between  their 
legs,  and  dreadful  stories  of  how  they  had  been  resisted  by  the 
disciples  of  the  Tuka  and  chased  from  their  strongholds.  It  was 
doubtful  how  far  my  men  were  in  sympathy  with  those  whom 


Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal  243 

they  were  sent  to  apprehend,  and  I  did  not  know  then  what  I  do 
now.  The  Fijian  enactment  creating  Stipendiary  Magistrates 
made  their  warrants  run  throughout  the  Colony,  but  the  natives 
held  the  old  English  idea  that  only  the  writs  of  the  justices  of 
their  particular  provinces  could  be  enforced  in  them.  All  who 
have  read  Conan  Doyle’s  celebrated  tale,  Rodney  Stone ,  will  know 
how  process  in  the  olden  times  was  only  effective  in  the  county  in 
which  it  was  issued,  and  before  offenders  who  had  fled  to  another 
could  be  apprehended  the  warrant  had  to  be  backed  by  the  author¬ 
ities  of  the  venue  where  they  had  taken  refuge.  Without  any 
legal  knowledge  that  was  precisely  the  view  the  Fijians  held,  and 
it  may  be  attributed  to  their  narrow  tribal  feelings  and  want  of 
patriotism  to  their  country  in  general.  Now  that  is  beginning  to 
change  owing  to  education  and  the  facilities  of  intercourse  under 
the  King’s  Peace,  whereby  all  parts  can  be  visited  without  fear 
of  being  knocked  on  the  head,  and  a  national  sentiment  is  taking  the 
place  of  the  old  tribal  idea. 

My  wise  old  notables  who  had  assembled  at  Undu  to  greet  and 
assist  me,  if  possible,  wagged  their  hoary  pates  and  wondered 
whatever  would  happen  next.  I  was  decidedly  of  the  opinion  that 
I  had  better  seek  the  aid  and  advice  of  the  Resident  Commissioner, 
so  off  I  went  to  him  at  Nandurulolo,  made  my  report  and  returned 
to  Vunindawa,  which  involved  a  river  journey  by  takia  of  over  one 
hundred  miles. 

Sir  John  Thurston,  the  Governor,  took  a  very  serious  view  of 
the  matter,  and  I  was  instructed  to  report  direct  to  him  and  keep 
him  closely  in  touch  with  the  Tuka  movement.  The  Resident 
Commissioner  came  up  to  Vunindawa  and  with  him  Ratu  Peni 
Tanoa,  the  Roko  Tui  or  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  adjacent 
province  of  Naitasiri,  with  his  feudatories  in  support.  The  Roko 
Tui  Ra,  in  whose  jurisdiction  lived  Navosavanakandua  and  his 
satellites,  was  also  directed  to  turn  his  levies  out,  arrest  and  bring 
over  the  Prophet  and  those  who  had  been  drilling  at  Undu.  For 
some  days  Vunindawa  resounded  to  the  tramp  of  the  club  and 
spear  men  who  answered  to  the  rally,  and  those  who  had  the  audacity 
to  resist  the  warrants  of  the  Matanitu  were  brought  in  and  delivered 
into  my  custody.  Amongst  them  were  two  of  Navosavakandua’s 
destroying  angels.  Tauvoli  was  one  of  them,  but  I  cannot  recollect 
the  name  of  the  other.  They  were  old  men  of  the  priestly  caste, 
and  wholeheartedly  in  support  of  the  ancient  regime.  Ratu  Peni 
Tanoa,  the  Roko  of  Naitasiri,  was  the  grandson  of  King  Thakombau, 
and  he  it  was  who  made  the  comparison  of  the  Fijian  Islands  being 


244  Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal 

like  the  strange  shapes  that  molten  lead  assumes  when  thrown  into 
cold  water.  He  was  a  ward  and  protege  of  Mr.  Carew  and  an 
extremely  lively  and  intelligent  young  gentleman.  My  judicial 
functions  had  now  passed  to  my  superior  officer,  the  Resident 
Commissioner,  and  I  only  acted  as  his  executive  officer  in  charge 
of  the  station  routine  work  and  was  responsible  for  the  safe  keeping 
of  the  prisoners.  We  had  no  proper  lock-up  or  jail,  and  I  was  very 
anxious  lest  the  destroying  angels  should  effect  their  escape. 
I  kept  them  in  my  own  quarters,  and  the  night  before  their  trial  I 
sat  up  with  them.  Ratu  Peni  kept  me  company  and  was  tremen¬ 
dously  interested  in  their  supposed  powers,  and  asked  if  it  was  really 
true  they  could  call  fire  down  from  heaven  and  destroy  us  all.  They 
assured  him  that  they  could,  but  out  of  consideration  for  his  dis¬ 
tinguished  presence  they  would  not  use  them  for  such  a  fell  purpose. 
The  next  day  all  those  who  had  come  over  to  Undu  and  disturbed 
the  Peace  of  Her  Majesty  the  Queen,  her  crown  and  dignity,  were 
tried  by  the  Resident  Commissioner  under  an  old  English  statute 
for  illegal  drilling,  and  sentenced  to  short  terms  of  hard  labour  and 
despatched  to  the  Central  Jail  at  Suva. 

Navosavakandua  was  not  amongst  those  who  had  been  drilling 
at  Undu  and  apparently  there  was  some  difficulty  in  effecting  his 
arrest,  as  he  was  not  brought  down  to  Vunindawa  until  after  the 
destroying  angels  and  the  others  had  been  disposed  of.  It  was 
quite  a  thrilling  moment  when  he  arrived  under  the  escort  of  a 
picturesque  guard,  armed  with  club  and  spear.  A  retinue  came 
with  him,  including  a  number  of  female  attendants  who  were  known 
as  Alewa  ni  Lemba  or  Lemba  women.  I  never  was  quite  able  to 
make  out  what  Lemba  exactly  meant,  but  Carew  told  me  that  nearly 
all  the  greatest  blackguards  he  knew  amongst  men  were  called  Roko 
Lemba.  I  knew  one  myself,  one  of  the  Tuka  leaders  who  answered 
to  that  name.  The  girls  told  us  that  they  were  sick  of  the  Prophet 
and  were  tired  of  continually  preparing  kava  for  him.  He  was 
certainly  not  much  to  look  at,  being  very  black  and  of  a  decidedly 
Melanesian  type.  He  looked  bilious  and  overfed,  and  had  a  dazed 
far-away  look  as  if  he  was  continually  under  the  influence  of  nar¬ 
cotics.  Undoubtedly  he  was  always  more  or  less  stupid  with  unlimited 
drinking  of  yangona  and  smoking  of  coarse,  rank  native  tobacco.  The 
latter  alone  produces  what  the  Fijians  call  matene,  which  means 
intoxication.  I  know  nothing  that  will  make  one’s  head  reel  more 
than  a  good  strong  seleuka  or  native  cigarette. 

Navosavakandua,  not  having  committed  any  actual  overt  offence 
in  Tholo,  was  sent  down  to  Suva  and  from  thence  was  relegated  to 


Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal  245 

his  own  province  of  Ra.  There  he  was  charged  on  two  informations 
with  conduct  calculated  to  create  a  breach  of  the  peace,  and  tried 
before  the  Stipendiary  Magistrate.  I  went  over  to  attend  the  Court, 
not  as  a  judicial  officer,  but  to  watch  the  case  from  my  special 
knowledge  of  ‘Tuka.  The  Prophet  was  brought  round  from  Suva 
in  the  twelve-oared  barge  of  the  Commissioner  of  Native  Affairs 
and  landed  at  Rukuruku  at  the  head  of  Viti  Levu  Bay.  I  went  up 
in  a  takia  to  the  head  of  canoe  navigation  on  the  Wainimbuka  and 
walked  over  to  the  northern  coast  and  met  my  colleague  of  Tai 
Levu  and  Ra.  The  Prophet  was  found  guilty  and  sentenced  to  six 
months’  hard  labour  on  each  charge.  If  ever  I  saw  a  change  come 
over  a  man’s  face  I  did  so  in  Navosavakandua’s.  The  coxwain  of  the 
barge  in  which  he  had  come  round  was  a  minor  Mbauan  chief, 
Ratu  Rusiate,  and  he  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  had  thoroughly 
rubbed  it  into  their  prisoner  that  I  was  sure  to  get  him  hanged. 
Therefore  when  he  heard  that  he  was  only  to  have  a  year  in  jail  he 
took  fresh  courage  and  hope,  and  life  was  once  more  worth  living. 
Immediately  sentence  had  been  pronounced  H.  L.  Tripp,  my 
brother  magistrate,  ordered  the  prisoner’s  hair  to  be  cropped,  and 
it  was  promptly  done  and  I  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  fact.  Yet 
when  I  got  back  to  Vunindawa  rumour  had  preceded  me,  and  I  was 
told  that  we  failed  to  accomplish  that  impious  crime  as  when  the 
scissors  were  applied  to  that  sacred  head  they  refused  to  perform 
their  office,  and  bent  backwards  rather  than  commit  such  a  sacrilege. 
In  the  chapter  on  the  Lost  Legion  and  in  my  remarks  about  Fijian 
prisoners  generally  I  should  have  said  that  the  shearing  of  the  locks 
of  those  unfortunates  who  came  within  the  grasp  of  the  law  was  the 
cruellest  sting,  much  harder  to  bear  than  imprisonment.  Natives 
are  immensely  proud  of  their  hair,  giving  much  time  and  attention 
to  its  care  and  beautification,  and  I  have  already  tried  to  explain 
how  the  divine  power  or  mana  centres  in  one’s  head  and  what  a 
dire  offence  it  is  for  any  to  touch  it  except  those  whose  office  it  is, 
such  as  the  hereditary  priests,  vide  the  case  of  the  Reverend  Thomas 
Baker,  who  snatched  his  comb  from  the  fuzzy  locks  of  his  slayer. 
When  I  was  alone  with  my  men  in  the  hills  one  of  the  young 
chiefs  used  to  cut  my  hair,  but  after  doing  so  he  always 
clapped  his  hands  and  went  through  the  native  form  of  respect  and 
obeisance. 

Not  only  was  I  told  that  we  failed  in  trying  to  crop  the  sacred 
locks  of  the  divine  Navosavakandua,  but  that  we  only  spared  his  fife 
because  we  knew  we  could  not  kill  him.  If  the  Government  could 
have  done  so  they  would  have  long  ago.  Bringing  him  back  from  his 


24.6  Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal 

first  exile,  as  has  already  been  told,  he  was  heaved  overboard  with 
an  anchor  and  chain  round  his  neck,  but  all  in  vain.  Then  when  his 
sotia  were  tried  and  convicted  at  Vunindawa,  we  had  sent  him  to 
the  big  central  sugar  mill  at  Nausori  and  had  tried  to  make  an  end 
of  him  by  passing  him  through  the  massive  rollers  which  crushed 
the  canes.  There,  like  the  scissors,  the  dreadful  machinery  refused 
to  harm  the  hallowed  victim.  After  that  there  remained  but  one 
other  recourse  by  which  to  stop  his  life.  In  those  days  there  was 
only  one  monthly  steamer  to  and  from  the  outside  world, via  Sydney, 
the  old  Gunga,  which  was  a  household  word,  well  known  even  through 
the  remote  hills,  for  in  the  earlier  times  a  gang  of  Government 
gentlemen,  as  the  prisoners  called  themselves,  used  to  discharge  and 
load  her.  So  the  news  came  up-country  that  the  cruel  authorities 
once  more  sought  the  death  of  their  illustrious  charge  by  dropping 
him  down  the  funnel  of  the  old  packet.  But  he  swam  through  the 
fires  and  cut  through  the  furnace  doors  as  if  he  had  been  taking  a 
dive  into  a  pool  in  the  stream  at  his  home  in  the  hills. 

After  Navosavakandua’s  year  was  up  he  was  banished  for  the  space 
of  ten  years  to  Rotumah,  the  small  island  dependency  of  Fiji,  four 
hundred  miles  northwards.  “  Quite  so,”  said  his  disciples.  “  For 
the  present  it  is  given  to  the  Matanitu  to  have  him  in  their  grip  ; 
it  is  their  hour,  but  his  will  come  at  the  last  and  great  day  when  all 
things  shall  be  turned  upside-down.  But  it  is  quite  evident  that 
Navosavakandua  has  the  gift  of  immortality,  otherwise  the  Govern¬ 
ment  would  have  killed  him  ;  not  being  able  to  do  so,  it  has  sent 
him  far  away  across  the  deep  ocean  ;  but  he  will  return  again.” 

As  for  myself,  I  said  in  my  mind,  “  Exit  the  prophet,”  and  I 
thought  I  had  done  with  him  for  at  least  a  considerable  period. 
But  I  spoke  in  my  ignorance  and  foolishness  of  heart.  Although 
the  Government  had  seen  to  the  detention  of  his  body  in  far  away 
Rotumah,  it  was  not  able  to  restrain  his  free  spirit,  and  his  astral 
form  returned  to  his  native  hills  and  comforted  his  adherents  by 
ministrations,  and  his  doctrine  of  the  Tuka  exists  to  this  present 
day. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  did  not  find  his  exile  too  irksome,  and  he 
found  consolation  in  one  of  the  pretty  straight-haired  girls  of 
Rotumah,  whom  he  took  to  wife.  By  the  time  his  sentence  had 
expired  I  had  succeeded  Mr.  Carew  in  Tholo  East,  and  was  also 
judicial  officer  of  the  Ra  Province,  the  district  in  which  was  the 
home  of  the  prophet.  I  was  asked  by  the  Government  if  I  had  any 
objection  to  his  return,  and  I  replied  that  I  had  none  whatever; 
that,  on  the  contrary,  I  thought  that  it  would  be  a  very  good  thing 


Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal  247 

to  let  him  come  home  again  and  let  his  people  see  him.  Whilst 
the  country  of  the  Tuka  was  under  my  control  I  felt  that  I  could 
cope  with  it,  and  I  felt  curious  to  see  how  his  disciples  would  regard 
him  after  his  long  absence,  and  how  he  would  behave.  But,  alas  ! 
he  died  almost  immediately  upon  the  order  for  his  release.  I  com¬ 
municated  the  news  to  his  kinsmen  and  followers,  but  I  think  that 
they  did  not  believe  me.  It  was  a  convenient  fabrication  to  permit 
of  the  Government  getting  out  of  a  tight  corner.  It  had  tried  to 
put  the  prophet  to  death  and  had  failed,  and  he  had  to  be  disposed 
of  in  some  way  or  other,  and  it  was  a  good  plausible  lie  to  say  that  he 
had  departed  this  life. 

But  as  I  have  already  said,  the  Tuka  still  goes  on.  We  all  regret 
our  lost  youth,  and  nobody  more  than  old  Fijians,  who  long  passion¬ 
ately  for  rejuvenation  and  a  return  of  early  joys  and  pleasures.  The 
leading  lights  of  the  cult  were  principally  the  old  hereditary  priests, 
and  in  addition  to  wishing  to  regain  their  physical  powers  they  also 
earnestly  desired  once  more  to  enjoy  their  sacerdotal  privileges. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  poetry  and  romance  interwoven  with  the 
superstition  ;  there  was  a  fountain  of  life,  the  drinking  of  whose 
waters  conferred  immortality,  and  a  house  of  sleep  and  pleasant 
dreams.  I  have  seen  the  latter  at  a  village  called  Lamisa,  in  the 
Kauvandra  country,  the  mystic  land.  It  was  but  a  simple  Mbure, 
but  the  local  Tuka  mbete  or  priest  had  cast  a  cunning  spell  upon  it, 
by  which  those  that  reposed  therein  had  the  sweetest  repose  and 
delightful  visions. 

Notwithstanding  the  miraculous  powers  of  Navosavakandua,  his 
destroying  angels  and  soldiers,  I  doubt  whether  there  would  have 
been  any  actual  overt  acts  of  opposition  against  law  and  order,  but 
it  had  one  great  danger.  The  people  were  all  agog  waiting  for  the 
last  day  and  the  reversement  of  all  existing  institutions,  when  they 
would  take  the  place  of  the  dominant  whites  and  their  own  hereditary 
chiefs.  The  great  tavuki  or  upheaval  was  constantly  being  predicted, 
and  the  expectant  people  were  as  constantly  disappointed.  Why  did 
it  not  come  ?  That  was  a  question  easily  answered  :  the  gods  had 
not  been  propitiated  by  the  customary  sacrifices,  the  spilling  of  human 
blood. 

Sergeant  Jesoni  (Jason)  for  many  years  was  my  right-hand  man 
in  the  judicial  administration  of  the  Ra  Province,  and  in  charge  of 
the  police  station  at  Rakiraki.  He  was  a  zealous  officer  and  a  pillar 
of  the  Wesleyan  Church,  in  which  he  was  a  lay  preacher.  After 
many  years  of  service  he  retired  on  a  pension,  and  died  shortly 
before  I  left  Fiji,  after  a  long  illness.  When  I  used  to  ride  up  the 


248  Tuka,  the  Life  Immortal 

long  Ra  coast  after  he  had  been  invalided,  he  generally  tried  to 
await  me  on  the  road  to  pay  his  respects.  Yet  when  he  died,  a  man 
who  was  present  told  me  that  almost  the  last  words  he  said  were 
that  the  cIuka  was  the  true  religion.  But  then  his  native  village 
was  within  the  shadow  of  the  Holy  Mountain  of  the  Kauvandra, 
and  notwithstanding  his  Christianity  he  was  saturated  with  the 
dominant  superstition  of  that  part  of  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


The  New  Religion 

FIJIANS  jump  to  conclusions  quickly,  and  when  they  observed 
resemblances  between  the  Christian  religion  and  their  own 
traditions  they  stoutly  averred  that  the  faith  introduced  by 
the  white  missionaries  was  no  new  thing,  and  that  they  had 
known  about  Jehovah  from  all  time.  It  was  no  use  my  telling  them 
that  it  was  impossible  ;  they  made  my  head  reel  with  their  fantastic 
distortions.  The  great  Ndeng-ei,  who,  as  his  whim  seized  him, 
was  either  a  man  or  a  snake,  was  without  doubt  the  Devil,  the  old 
serpent,  and  as  he  in  his  wrath  had  driven  away  the  two  young 
chiefs  from  the  god-land  of  Viti,  he  was  the  enemy  of  mankind, 
whose  seed  should  bruise  his  head  when  the  banished  heroes  returned 
from  their  long  exile.  Their  father,  Rokola,  the  tutelary  genius  of 
the  carpenter  clan,  who  built  the  canoe  on  which  they  sailed  away 
was,  of  course,  Noah.  Arguments  on  the  subject  were  like  nightmares, 
as  my  opponents  indiscriminately  used  the  Fijian  and  Biblical  names, 
alternating  them  with  each  other  in  such  a  manner  that  I  hardly 
knew  where  I  was. 

Nandurutamata,  the  man  post,  the  uncle  of  Sergeant  Naikasau, 
gave  me  this  version  of  the  creation  of  man  : 

“  Formerly  there  were  two  gods,  Jehovah  and  Ndeng-ei,  and  at 
one  time  they  had  a  dispute.  Ndeng-ei  said,  ‘  Jehovah,  pay  obedience 
to  me.’  Jehovah  replied,  ‘  Ndeng-ei,  serve  me.  Do  you  not  know 
that  I  am  the  Supreme  Chief  and  Lord  of  Heaven  ?  ’  To  this 
Ndeng-ei  answered,  ‘  What,  Jehovah,  are  you  a  god  ?  ’  Then  said 
Jehovah,  ‘  What  !  Ndeng-ei,  are  you  a  god  ?  What  are  you  a  god 
of  ?  If  you  are,  make  man.’  Ndeng-ei  took  earth  and  moulded  and 
fashioned  it  into  the  likeness  of  a  man.  Then  Jehovah  said,  ‘  Tell  it 
to  stand  up,’  and  Ndeng-ei  said  to  the  earth  he  had  shaped,  ‘  Earth, 
stand  up,’  but  the  earthen  form  remained  still  and  quiet. 

When  Ndeng-ei  had  finished  his  work  he  said,  ‘  Jehovah,  if  thou 
art  a  god  make  man  of  this  earth.’  So  Jehovah  kneaded  the  earth 
and  formed  a  man  and  then  a  woman.  When  he  had  finished  fashion- 


249 


250  The  New  Religion 

ing  both,  Ndeng-ei  said,  ‘  Tell  them  to  stand  up.’  Then  Jehovah 
thought,  ‘  What  shall  I  do  to  accomplish  a  living  man  ?  I  will 
endow  him  with  a  soul  and  with  breath.’  So  he  stooped  down  and 
caused  his  spirit  to  enter  the  man  first  and  afterwards  the  woman, 
and  he  breathed  into  them.  Then  Ndeng-ei  said  once  more,  ‘  Tell 
them  to  stand  up.’  And  Jehovah  said  to  the  two  earthen  forms, 
‘  Stand  up,’  and  they  stood  up. 

After  that  Jehovah  said,  ‘  Ndeng-ei,  what  are  you  god  of  ?  If 
you  are  a  god  tell  your  earthen  forms  over  there  to  stand  up.  To-day 
you  have  seen  me  create  man  from  earth  only.’ 

After  that  the  human  species  multiplied  and  Jehovah  drove 
Ndeng-ei  away.  Then  Jehovah  said  to  his  people,  ‘  It  is  good 
that  you  should  build  a  house,  an  extremely  lofty  one,  whose  summit 
shall  reach  to  heaven,  of  which  it  shall  be  the  key  and  from  whence 
life  immortal  shall  be  given  to  you.’  Then  they  built  the  house, 
and  each  was  ordered  to  furnish  it  with  the  requisite  articles  at  which 
they  were  skilled.  They  did  so,  and  gave  different  names  to  the 
things  which  they  gave,  and  thus  arose  a  diversity  of  languages. 
Then  Jehovah  told  them  to  prepare  the  feast  customary  upon  the 
completion  of  a  house,  and  they  made  one  of  yams,  taro  and  plan¬ 
tains,  which  sprang  from  the  place  at  which  they  were.  Then  said 
Jehovah  to  them,  ‘  It  is  good  that  each  of  you  should  go  your  way 
into  the  world  and  fill  the  different  lands.’  So  they  went  forth, 
each  taking  yams,  taro  and  plantains,  and  some  named  themselves 
after  the  particular  kind  of  yams  they  took,  and  some  from  the  taro, 
and  others  after  the  plantains,  each  after  the  things  they  took  with 
them  when  they  were  sent  forth  by  the  spirit  (thus  accounting  for 
their  plant  totems),  and  the  place  from  whence  they  departed  was 
called  Paradise.  Then  each  dwelt  in  the  land  at  which  they  arrived, 
and  they  settled  down  and  multiplied,  the  Vatusila  at  Vandrana- 
sing-a,  and  the  Noikoro  at  Nang-atang-ata.  The  common  people 
arrived  first,  and  the  chiefs  followed  later  on.” 

The  foregoing  are  Nandurutamata’s  own  words.  Lest  I  should 
lose  the  idiom  and  the  precise  meaning  I  got  one  of  my  native  clerks 
to  write  down  the  old  man’s  story,  from  which  I  have  made  the 
translation.  It  was  done  in  1893,  after  we  had  been  a  year  at 
Nandarivatu,  the  new  hill  station.  Naikasau,  who  had  been  the 
rural  police  sergeant  at  Vunindawa  had  been  promoted,  and  was 
the  Lieutenant  of  A.N.C.  which  formed  the  garrison  of  the  post. 
His  uncle,  Nandurutamata,  came  over  to  see  us,  and  although  he 
was  verging  on  eighty  he  was  still  hale  and  hearty  in  mind  and  body 
and  had  covered  on  foot  the  distance  between  his  home  at  Narokoro- 


The  New  Religion  251 

koyawa  in  Noemalu  and  Nandarivatu,  about  fifty  miles  over  the 
rugged  mountains  of  central  Viti  Levu.  Although  he  was  so  old, 
his  memory  was  splendid,  and  he  was  one  of  the  learned  repositories 
of  bygone  lore  and  tradition,  a  veritable  native  historian,  after  the 
manner  of  our  own  bards.  At  the  same  time  there  happened  to  be 
another  ancient  at  Nandarivatu,  the  Mbuli  of  Wainunu,  a  district 
on  the  other  big  island,  Vanua  Levu.  He  had  got  into  some  sort  of 
political  trouble,  was  deported  for  a  while  and  put  into  my  care 
under  honourable  detention.  He,  too,  was  another  fount  of  cus¬ 
tomary  usage,  having  been  in  the  time  of  his  boyhood  a  heathen  and 
a  cannibal.  I  called  him  into  the  debate,  and  he  at  once  ranged 
himself  on  the  side  of  the  other  elder.  “  Oh,  yes,  from  all  time 
they  had  known  of  Jehovah,  and  when  he  was  quite  young,  when 
he  and  his  playmates  saw  clouds  taking  a  human  form,  as  they  some¬ 
times  do,  they  used  to  say,  ‘  Lo  !  the  great  God  Jehovah  is  showing 
himself.’  ”  They  were  quite  obstinate  about  it,  and  I  concluded  it 
would  be  of  no  use  to  go  on  with  the  argument. 

When  I  talked  to  them  about  Paradise  or  Parataisi  as  they  put  it, 
and  asked  them  to  explain  how  they  came  to  use  that  word,  they 
were  dubious  and  thought  perhaps  that  Qaloqalo  should  have  been 
mentioned.  That  is  the  name  of  the  mythical  island  in  the  far 
north-west  from  which  they  think  their  original  forbears  came, 
and  to  which  their  souls  wing  their  way  after  death,  which  has  already 
been  alluded  to  in  Chapter  VII.  These  two  elders  were  not  followers 
of  the  Tuka  prophet  ;  if  they  had  been  they  would  rather  have 
spoken  of  Mburoto  Kula ,  Paradise  the  Scarlet,  which  was  his  term. 
His  disciples  used  to  hum  a  distich  of  his  : 

“  Enda  na  kunea  maivei  na  mbula  ? 

Sa  na  kunei  mai  Mburoto  Kula.” 

(“  Where  shall  we  find  the  Life  ? 

It  is  to  be  found  in  the  Red  Paradise.”) 

In  olden  times  everything  splendid  was  red  or  scarlet,  and  the 
Fijian  word  denoting  it  is  derived  from  the  beautiful  parrakeet 
called  the  Kula.  The  scarlet  feathers  of  its  breast  were  used  to  fringe 
the  finest  mats  and  to  embroider  the  fillets  which  in  many  of  the 
South  Sea  Islands  were  used  as  royal  headdresses.  Before  the 
introduction  of  firearms  the  killing  of  these  birds  was  a  difficult 
process,  and  their  small  breast  feathers  were  as  valuable  in  the 
commerce  of  the  Southern  Pacific  as  gold  is  with  us,  and  perhaps 
more  so.  From  kula  to  koula ,  which  is  the  Fijian  for  gold,  is  but  a 
short  step,  and  natives  nowadays  will  probably  tell  you  about 


252  The  New  Religion 

Mburoto  the  Golden,  instead  of  the  Red  Paradise.  How  quickly 
they  adapt  themselves  is  shown  by  another  little  couplet  which  I 
used  to  hear  the  girls  sing  : 

“  Sa  ndua  na  Kavetani  nai  vana  rua, 

Na  sulu  silika,  nai  lavo  koula.” 

(“  There  is  a  schooner  with  a  Captain  bold, 

The  sails  are  silk,  the  money’s  gold.”) 

Amongst  the  early  settlers  in  Fiji  was  a  good  sprinkling  of  men 
from  New  Zealand  who  had  fought  in  the  Maori  wars.  They  used 
to  talk  about  the  mad  prophet  there,  Te  Kooti,  who  also  invented  a 
new  religion  called  Hauhau,  founded  upon  the  Bible  and  the  old 
native  legends.  Hau  in  Maori  is  the  equivalent  of  our  Fijian  Sau, 
which  either  means  a  chief  or  chiefly,  royal  or  noble.  As  has  already 
been  explained  “  h  ”  and  “  s  ”  are  interchangeable  letters  in  South 
Sea  dialects,  and  reduplication  of  a  syllable  either  denotes  intensifica¬ 
tion  or  a  diminution.  In  regard  to  Hauhau  I  take  it  to  relate  to  the 
former  state  and  to  mean  right  royal  or  chiefly.  Vale  is  the  word 
for  house,  and  cabins  built  on  the  decks  of  canoes  are  valevale  or 
little  houses,  which  is  an  example  of  its  use  as  a  diminutive.  There 
seems  to  be  no  actual  rule,  and  one  can  judge  the  proper  use  of  the 
reduplication  only  by  the  context  and  experience. 

Navosavakandua,  our  prophet,  had  heard  probably  of  the  Hauhau 
doctrine.  Many  of  the  old  South  Sea  whalers  frequented  Fiji,  even 
up  to  the  first  few  years  of  my  sojourn  there.  The  Bay  of  Islands 
in  the  North  Island  of  New  Zealand  was  a  great  rendezvous  for  them, 
and  many  Maoris  shipped  aboard,  some  of  whom  deserted  and 
settled  in  Fiji,  and  probably  they  talked  about  Te  Kooti  and  his 
religion.  Fijians  pick  up  all  sorts  of  ideas,  especially  from  our  sea¬ 
farers.  When  any  of  my  inland  people  wanted  to  get  a  few  pounds 
quickly  they  made  their  way  down  to  Suva  and  tried  to  be  taken  on 
as  dockers  and  work  on  the  big  ocean  steamers.  That  often  entailed 
a  short  trip  to  some  of  the  minor  Fijian  ports,  and  they  used  to 
come  home  with  smatterings  of  all  sorts  of  strange  knowledge.  They 
got  to  hear  of  Freemasonry,  and  so  apparently  did  Navosavakandua, 
as  he  and  his  followers  made  use  of  occult  signs  and  passwords.  The 
latter  I  found  out  was  “  Oliliva  Oliva  Raitha  Na  Volosima,”  but  no 
one  would  tell  me  the  meaning,  and  it  is  open  to  doubt  if  it  had  any. 
There  were  so  many  things  that  the  cTuka  folk  could  not  explain, 
and  when  pressed  to  do  so  sheltered  themselves  under  the  common 
reply  that  it  was  all  part  of  the  business,  as  they  had  done  in  the 
case  of  the  flaming  chariots. 


The  New  Religion  253 

Our  prophet  was  familiarly  called  Navosa  by  his  intimate  friends 
and  retainers.  They  probably  found  the  full  Navosavakandua  too 
much  for  everyday  use,  and  had  recourse  to  a  pet  abbreviation.  I 
had  a  whole  sheaf  of  papers  emanating  from  one  of  his  principal 
disciples,  Sailose  Ratu.  They  are  full  of  cabbalistic  signs  and  cryptic 
expressions  intermingled  with  his  crabbed  handwriting.  The  latter 
I  got  transcribed  by  my  head  native  clerk  and  found  it  to  be  a 
record  of  prophecies,  prayers  and  visions,  in  which  the  author 
describes  himself  as  the  V oula ,  which  I  think  is  an  archaic  word  for 
a  seer.  They  were  all  written  after  the  deportation  of  Navosa  to 
Rotumah,  and  some  even  after  his  death  there,  yet  they  abound  in 
description  of  his  appearances  to  his  faithful  followers.  Sailose  Ratu 
also  compiled  what  he  called  the  Tuka  Gazette ,  which  fell  into  my 
hands  with  the  papers  to  which  I  have  just  alluded.  It  is  written 
in  an  ordinary  copy-book,  which  it  pretty  well  fills.  I  have  sent  it 
to  the  Fijian  Society  to  see  if  that  body  can  make  anything  out  of 
it.  I  have  no  native  assistance  here  in  England,  and  an  interpretation 
without  it  would  be  almost  impossible. 

Sailose  kept  out  of  my  way  during  the  main  Tuka  troubles  and 
until  after  the  Government  had  established  the  new  post  at  Nan- 
darivatu.  Then  he  began  to  be  a  nuisance,  moving  about  and 
disturbing  the  people’s  minds  with  his  mad  fanaticism.  One  Tuesday 
morning  he  marched  into  my  office  and  said,  “  The  Ranandi  (Queen 
Victoria)  died  yesterday  and  she  is  to  be  buried  on  Thursday.  It 
has  been  so  revealed  to  me  by  the  spirit,  and  I  have  thought  it  my 
duty  to  come  and  give  you  the  information.”  This  was  about  two 
years  before  Her  Majesty’s  death  and  three  years  before  the  Pacific 
cable  reached  Fiji.  The  end  of  Sailose  was,  as  concerned  myself, 
that  the  police  prosecuted  him  as  a  lunatic  at  large,  and  he  was 
committed  to  the  public  asylum.  As  I  have  remarked  in  a  previous 
chapter  it  was  one  thing  to  send  a  man  there  and  another  to  get  him 
admitted,  as  the  doctors  always  kicked  against  giving  the  necessary 
certificates.  When  Sailose  was  got  down  to  Suva  the  usual  thing 
happened,  and  the  medical  officer  of  the  asylum  would  not  take 
him  in.  However,  as  I  have  already  recounted  in  a  similar  case 
not  long  before,  a  patient  who  had  been  released  immediately 
afterwards  ran  amok  and  cut  off  the  head  of  the  first  unfortunate 
he  came  across.  That  suggested  a  little  caution  for  the  future,  and 
Sailose  was  placed  at  the  Colonial  Hospital  to  be  kept  under  observa¬ 
tion.  Fortunately,  Miss  Mary  Anderson,  the  matron,  was  an 
accomplished  Fijian  scholar,  and  she  had  some  conversations  with 
him.  In  the  course  of  one  of  them  he  disclosed  that  he  was  the 


254  The  New  Religion 

shrine  of  a  spirit,  whose  absolute  servant  he  was,  and  he  further 
added  that  if  it  told  him  to  kill  her,  Dr.  Corney,  the  chief  medical 
officer,  or  the  commissioner  of  his  district  (myself)  he  would 
unhesitatingly  do  so.  Then  his  certificate  was  signed  and  he  remained 
an  inmate  of  the  asylum  for  twelve  years  or  so,  until  after  I  left  the 
Colony  in  1910.  Then  for  some  reason  or  other  he  was  let  out, 
and  returning  home  said  it  was  done  by  my  orders  as,  recognising 
that  Queen  Victoria  had  died  after  all,  it  was  unjust  to  keep  him 
confined.  He  started  on  his  old  tricks  again,  and  towards  the  end  of 
the  Great  War  stirred  up  some  unrest  and  excitement  by  convening 
a  great  meeting  at  Tavua  and  telling  the  people  that  his  spirit,  by 
its  inspiration,  had  informed  him  that  Great  Britain  had  surrendered 
to  Germany  by  a  soro,  the  Fijian  term  for  an  act  of  submission,  that 
the  Governor  had  been  deposed,  that  everybody  could  now  do  as 
he  pleased  and  pay  no  more  taxes.  Many  believed  him  as  they  had 
his  master,  Navosavakandua,  but  their  minds  were  speedily  dis¬ 
abused  by  the  return  of  Sailose  to  the  asylum.  It  was  his  last  flare- 
up,  and  not  long  afterwards  he,  too,  sought  the  path  to  Mburotu  the 
Scarlet. 

Here  is  one  of  Sailose’s  Tuka  prayers  : 

“8.  5.  95. 

Emeni  ni  bula,  au  sa  bula  mai  Valekulaya  ka  raica  na  rarama  ni 
bula  vakatovolei  oqo,  ka  marau  na  yaloqu  ki  Burotukula  au  sa  vakarau 
e  na  siga  edadai,  au  kereya  e  na  yalomu  na  loloma  na  sala  meu  kune 
ka  vinaka  kina.  Emeni  Voula  ni  bula.” 

Translation 

“  Amen  of  life,  I  have  life  in  the  Scarlet  House  and  see  the  light 
of  this  probationary  life,  and  my  spirit  rejoices  in  Burotu  the  Red, 
I  prepare  to  go  thither  to-day,  I  beseech  with  your  spirit  mercy  for 
the  road  that  I  may  find  good  things  therein.  Amen  Prophet  of 
Life.” 

It  will  be  seen  that  Sailose  was  sufficiently  educated  to  be  able  to 
denote  the  date  by  figures.  He  probably  learnt  to  read  and  write 
in  the  Wesleyan  village  schools,  but  his  signs  and  crosses  he  picked 
up,  I  think,  from  the  breviaries  of  his  Catholic  friends. 

It  has  already  been  told  how  my  old  retainer,  Jesoni,  the  police- 
sergeant  for  the  Ra  Province,  declared  his  belief  in  the  Tuka  religion 
when  dying,  although  he  had  been  a  fervent  member  of  the  Wesleyan 
body.  I  found  out,  too,  that  the  head  constable  of  Tholo  North, 


The  New  Religion  255 

a  most  revered  official,  was  one  of  the  destroying  angels  of  the 
new  religion,  and  Joseva  Bembe  Tumbi,  whom  I  have  mentioned 
as  having  imitated  Sir  John  Bates  Thurston’s  method  of  initialling 
papers  with  J.B.T.,  also  fell  after  my  departure,  owing  to  his  adher¬ 
ence  to  the  Tuka,  although  he  had  been  appointed  Mbuli  of  Yalatina. 
It  is  the  cult  of  those  parts  of  Tholo  North  and  Ra  within  the  shadow 
of  Nakauvandra,  the  holy  mount  and  shrine  of  the  Great  Ndeng-ei. 

This  personage  I  have  endeavoured  to  portray  in  the  earlier 
chapters  as  a  Polynesian  Viking  or  demi-god  who  landed  on  the 
northern  shores  of  Viti  Levu  about  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  or 
commencement  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  settled  at  a  place 
called  the  Kauvandra,  which  was  so  named  from  the  temporary  house 
that  he  built  there.  Dying,  he  passed  to  the  realms  of  the  gods, 
and  in  accordance  with  ancestral  religion  was  worshipped  under  the 
guise  of  his  totem,  the  snake.  His  shrine,  which  was  said  to  be  a 
large  and  gloomy  cavern  at  the  summit  of  the  lofty  mountain 
on  whose  slopes  he  had  dwelt,  was  the  subject  of  the  wildest  and 
most  fabulous  tales.  With  time  he  developed  into  an  enormous 
serpent,  and  if  he  turned  and  tossed  in  his  sleep  the  earth  quaked. 
At  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  was  a  big  mbaka  or  banyan  tree  ( Ficus 
indica)  called  ulunda,  which  means  the  head  or  top  of  all.  In  the 
branches  of  this  giant  fig  dwelt  a  beautiful  dove  called  Turukawa, 
the  pet  of  Ndeng-ei,  and  by  its  soft  cooing  each  morn  at  dawn  the 
god  was  wakened  from  slumber.  In  the  holy  land  about  the  sacred 
mount  there  also  dwelt  Rokola,  the  patron  genius  of  the  carpenter 
clan,  who  had  two  sons,  Nakalasambaria  and  Nathirikaumoli.  They 
were  mighty  hunters  and  skilful  archers,  the  bow  being  the  national 
weapon  of  Fiji  in  the  olden  times.  Soon  they  had  shot  all  the  game 
in  the  country-side  and  only  T urukawa  remained,  and  at  last  he  too 
fell  to  the  arrow  of  one  of  the  brothers.  Consequently  there  was 
no  one  to  wake  the  sleeping  snake,  and  he  troubled  the  world  by  his 
mighty  heavings  as  he  writhed  about  in  his  restlessness  when  the 
time  came  that  he  should  have  risen.  Waking  at  last  he  wrathfully 
demanded  who  had  slain  his  beautiful  bird,  and  the  culprits  with 
the  usual  Fijian  insouciance  pleaded  guilty  to  the  deed,  and  the 
angry  god  demanded  their  execution.  However,  the  other  divinities 
were  not  prepared  to  proceed  to  such  an  extreme,  and  a  Holy  War 
ensued  in  which  some  supported  Ndeng-ei  and  others  Rokola,  the 
father  of  the  two  young  chiefs.  Neither  side  achieved  a  decisive 
victory,  the  country-side  was  wasted  by  the  conflict  until  at  last  an 
armistice  was  arranged  and  terms  of  peace  arrived  at.  The  offenders, 
Nakalasambaria  and  Nothirikaumoli,  were  banished  for  ever  from 


256  The  New  Religion 

Viti ;  their  father  built  a  canoe  for  them  and  a  tremendous  flood 
was  caused  in  the  head  waters  of  the  Wainimbuka  by  the  shooting 
of  an  arrow  into  the  vung-a  yalo  or  sacred  myrtle  which  grew  on 
the  Kauvandra.  The  mighty  stream  which  flowed  from  it  surged 
southwards  and  formed  the  great  Rewa  River  and  on  it  floated  the 
ark,  as  it  was  so  mentioned  to  me,  away  to  the  distant  ocean  which 
washed  the  southern  shores  of  Viti  Levu. 

The  legend  is  set  forth  in  The  Meke  of  Turukawa,  a  song  and 
dance  which  commemorates  the  event.  I  have  seen  this  opera 
performed,  and  I  have  a  copy  of  the  libretto.  Sir  Basil  Thomson  in 
one  of  his  books,  The  Fijians,  gives  an  admirable  translation  of  it 
in  what  he  calls  “  The  Epic  of  Dengei.”  Another  fragment  of  the 
poem  is  to  be  found  in  that  very  interesting  work  The  King  and 
People  of  Fiji,  by  the  Reverend  Joseph  Waterhouse,  published  in 
1866,  one  of  the  first  descriptions  of  mission  enterprise  in  the  Group. 
The  translation  and  versification  of  the  meke  there  is  by  the  Reverend 
John  Hunt,  one  of  the  earliest  workers  in  the  new  field. 

Sir  Basil  Thomson’s  rendering  of  the  ballad  of  Turukawa  is  most 
poetic  and  lucid,  and  as  he  has  already  given  it  so  fully  I  do  not 
want  to  go  over  the  ground  again.  My  version  differs  in  some 
points,  but  it  came  probably  from  a  different  source,  and  no  two 
accounts  ever  agree.  The  Gospels  vary  in  minor  parts  yet  agree 
on  the  main  points,  and  so  it  is  in  the  history  of  the  Tuka ;  the 
Fijian  theory  of  life  eternal.  In  Sir  Basil’s  book  there  appears  to  be 
a  slight  error  which  may  be  a  printer’s.  He  speaks  of  the  cleaving 
of  the  vungayali  tree  which  caused  the  great  flood  on  which  the 
twin  gods  sailed  away  to  the  great  ocean.  Vung-a  is  the  generic 
name  of  the  myrtle,  of  which  many  varieties  are  to  be  found  on  the 
mountain  slopes,  and  yali  means  “  lost,”  so  his  rendering  of  the 
word  would  mean  the  “  lost  myrtle.”  Vung-a-yalo  is  the  correct 
designation  and  means  the  sacred  or  spiritual  myrtle.  There  is 
one  right  at  the  summit  of  Mount  Victoria,  and  its  flowerS  differ 
considerably  from  the  ordinary  species  with  scarlet  and  yellow 
bottle-brush  blooms  which  clothe  the  lower  slopes.  The  blossom 
of  the  sacred  myrtle  is  an  open  white  cup  with  a  dark  centre,  some¬ 
thing  like  that  of  the  wild  white  hibiscus  of  Fiji,  the  Storckii. 

It  is  only  to  be  found  at  the  highest  elevations,  and  is  a  pure 
and  delicate  flower,  and  calls  to  my  mind  the  Californian  lily  of  the 
Holy  Spirit.  From  its  root  on  the  Holy  Mount  gushed  forth  the 
waters  which  caused  the  great  Rewa  River,  and  afforded  again  to 
the  Fijians  a  simile  to  the  rock  smitten  by  Moses  in  the  wilderness. 

In  The  Fijians  the  name  of  the  canoe  is  given  as  N aivaka-nawanawa 


A  Satisfactory  Catch. 


Freeing  the  fishers  of  the  Rate's  turtle  fleet  from  the  dreadful  alternative. 


The  New  Religion  257 

(the  lifeboat).  In  the  next  chapter  I  am  going  to  try  and  tell  of 
my  visit  to  the  spot  where  the  first  canoe  was  built  on  the  very  head 
waters  of  the  Wainimbuka,  below  the  western  slopes  of  the  Kau- 
vandra.  There  I  saw  its  petrified  chips,  and  was  told  that  being 
the  first  ever  fashioned  it  was  called  the  Tamunamuna  (cut  from 
the  rump).  Ta  is  the  verb  to  cut  or  hew,  and  muna  is  the  intensive 
form  of  that  part  of  the  human  anatomy  which  a  man  generally 
likes  to  warm  before  the  fire.  Freely  translated  it  means  botched 
or  cut  lumpily  or  awkwardly.  It  evidently  inferred  that  being  the 
first  craft  to  be  constructed  it  was  done  without  that  skill  to  which 
native  carpentry  subsequently  attained. 

As  the  Fijians  have  mixed  up  the  Bible  with  their  old  legends, 
so  I  think  they  have  confused  their  own  old  traditions,  and  it  may 
be  that  two  canoes  were  built  at  different  times  marking  distinct 
epochs.  I  have  been  up  and  down  the  Wainimbuka  frequently, 
and  its  whole  course  is  reminiscent  of  the  mythology  of  the  first 
canoe  ever  built  by  which  members  of  the  carpenter  clan  were 
distributed  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  Fiji.  I  can 
distinctly  recall  to  my  mind  the  picture  of  two  large  rocks  in  the 
river  bed  as  it  flows  through  the  district  of  Nailenga.  As  the 
Tamunamuna  was  passing  there  the  wives  of  the  carpenter  were 
plaiting  mats,  and  kept  the  corners  from  being  blown  about  by  the 
wind  by  means  of  heavy  stones.  An  extra  gust  shook  the  weights 
into  the  water  and  there  they  have  remained  ever  since.  They 
are  as  big  as  the  one  which  Lewatini,  the  bride  of  Tombayaweni, 
fished  out  of  the  pool  on  the  Singatoka  when  her  lover  was  testing 
her  fidelity  mentioned  in  Chapter  IX,  which  I  likened  to  the  size 
of  a  motor-bus.  The  old  native  magistrate  who  used  to  travel  with 
me  when  we  were  on  circuit  in  the  Wainimbuka  districts  was  a 
splendid  cicerone,  and  pointed  out  every  spot  we  passed  and  spun 
yarns  about  them.  He  told  me  much  about  the  voyage  of  the  first 
canoe,  which  accounts  for  the  origin  of  the  'killed  artisans  of  Fiji 
who  became  renowned  as  the  best  builders  of  the  large  sailing  out¬ 
rigger  craft  of  the  Western  Pacific.  One  has  only  to  read  Captain 
Cook  and  the  books  of  other  voyagers  to  discover  how  superior  the 
Fijians  were  in  the  constructive  arts,  in  the  fashioning  of  bowls, 
clubs,  spears  and  all  descriptions  of  wooden  ware,  and  the  natives 
themselves  will  tell  you  that  all  this  knowledge  was  derived  from 
Rokola,  the  god  of  the  carpenters  who  built  the  Tamunamuna,  and 
on  it  sent  his  craftsmen  away  to  all  parts  of  the  Group  to  settle  and 
found  a  hereditary  caste.  Their  largest  colony  was  founded  at 
Rewa,  where  they  dwell  to  this  day  in  a  quarter  of  the  town  called 
R 


258  The  New  Religion 

Ndorokavu.  They  form  a  distinct  clan — once  a  carpenter  always  a 
carpenter. 

The  first  Tongan  and  Polynesian  adventurers,  Ndeng-ei  and  his 
followers,  must  have  blundered  down  to  Fiji  in  the  ill-cut  and 
clumsy  tongiaki ,  the  canoes  then  in  fashion  in  their  own  islands. 
In  their  new  home  they  learnt  the  superiority  of  the  vessels  of  Fiji, 
whither  the  Tongans  afterwards  resorted  to  build  canoes,  adopting 
the  local  model.  The  T amunamuna  had  probably  been  cut  long 
before  any  of  the  straight-haired  heroes  arrived  to  be  adopted  by 
the  Melanesian  clans  of  Viti  and  to  found  the  chief  families. 

As  the  Bible  and  the  old  native  myths,  from  their  similarity  to 
each  other,  the  creation  of  man,  the  construction  of  a  building  to 
reach  heaven,  the  flood,  the  ark  and  the  great  canoe,  and  the  smitten 
rock,  and  myrtle  from  which  water  gushed,  have  become  so  inter¬ 
woven  in  the  Fijian  mind,  so  too  perhaps  the  old  Melanesian 
traditions  have  been  confused  with  those  of  the  strangers  who  came 
to  Viti  as  far  back  as  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  make 
it  difficult  to  determine  whether  the  episode  of  Turukawa  and  the 
building  of  the  V aka-nawanazua  occurred  before  or  after  their 
advent. 

I  never  saw  the  wonderful  performance  of  the  fire-walkers  of 
the  Island  of  Mbenga,  who  in  their  ceremony  of  the  Vilavilairevo 
walk  unharmed  across  the  red-hot  stones  of  a  huge  native  oven 
specially  heated  for  the  display,  but  in  my  early  days  I  met  men 
of  the  Sawau  clan  whose  hereditary  privilege  it  is  to  pass  unscathed 
through  fire,  and  they  told  me  they  quite  understood  how  Meshech, 
Shadrach  and  Abednego  survived  the  ordeal,  and  this  too  is  another 
coincidence  between  Fijian  traditions  and  the  Bible. 

I  have  seen  myself  how  a  myth  can  start  and  grow.  Roko  Lemba 
of  Numbumakita  was  one  of  the  Voula  or  seers  of  the  Tuka.  He 
died  some  distance  away  from  his  native  village  to  which  he  was 
carried  for  burial,  along  the  main  highway  across  Viti  Levu.  A  corpse 
is  prepared  for  the  grave  by  folding  it  in  shrouds  of  bark  cloth  with 
outside  wrappers  of  grass  mats,  the  ends  of  which  protrude  and  are 
tied  up,  making  a  bundle  considerably  longer  than  the  body,  which 
for  carriage  is  slung  on  a  pole.  Roko  Lemba  died  some  twenty 
miles  or  so  away  from  his  home,  and  the  tired  bearers  who  brought 
him  back  put  the  corpse  down  every  now  and  then  and  marked  the 
place  by  putting  stones  at  his  head  and  heels.  In  any  case  he  was  a 
tall  man,  but  the  protrusions  of  his  funeral  wrappings  made  him 
greater  still.  Afterwards  his  friends  and  relations  piously  planted 
cuttings  of  the  scarlet  dracaena  at  the  outer  end  of  the  stones  which 


The  New  Religion  259 

denoted  his  various  resting-places,  and  thus  added  a  few  more  inches 
to  his  stature.  They  will  be  pointed  out  by  subsequent  generations 
to  the  passers-by  who  will  think  that  there  were  giants  in  former 
days.  As  the  Fijian  proverb  has  it,  in  regard  to  their  habit  of 
exaggeration  : 

“  Only  whisper  a  thing  in  Viwa, 

And  it  resounds  like  a  roaring  fire.” 

Whilst  the  Government  was  wrestling  with  the  Tuka  in  1885, 
the  Wesleyan  Mission  celebrated  its  Jubilee,  the  fiftieth  anni¬ 
versary  of  the  landing  of  the  pioneers,  Cargill  and  Cross,  at  Lakemba 
in  1835.  In  honour  of  the  event  a  large  deputation  of  the  leading 
Wesleyan  lights  in  Australia  came  to  Fiji,  and  I  saw  a  contingent 
of  them  pass  Vunindawa  en  route  to  Ratu  Jona’s  school  and  station 
at  Nairukuruku.  In  the  midst  of  their  rejoicings  and  songs  of 
triumph  Navosavakandua  was  playing  the  role  of  John  the  Baptist  in 
the  new  religion.  He  did  not  claim  to  be  that  prophet  who  should 
change  all  things,  but  was  only  preparing  the  way  for  the  return  of 
the  divine  sons  of  the  carpenter-god  who  would  turn  the  world 
upside-down  and  restore  the  ancient  ancestral  worship,  and  grant 
to  the  faithful  the  Tuka  or  state  of  everlasting  youth  and  life,  in 
that  great  and  last  day  when  they  should  judge  mankind.  If  in 
fifty  years  this  new  religion  could  be  evolved  from  the  ancient 
Fijian  myths  and  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  it  seems  not  impos¬ 
sible  that  Melanesian  and  Polynesian  legends  could  have  become 
equally  intermingled  and  confounded  in  the  two  and  a  half  centuries 
intervening  between  the  advent  of  Ndeng-ei  and  the  first  Wesleyan 
missionaries. 

Polynesian  scholars  say  that  the  race  first  commenced  to  make  its 
way  to  the  Pacific  from  the  Asiatic  shores  somewhere  about  the 
commencement  of  the  Christian  era,  effecting  a  lodgment  in  Fiji 
en  route  from  which  it  was  driven  out  by  the  hardy  Melanesians. 
Frederick  O’Brien  in  his  book  published  in  1921,  The  Mystic  Isles 
o  f  the  South  Seas,  quotes  a  legend  of  the  Marquesans  which  mentions 
their  Fijian  sojourn  and  the  cruel  treatment  meted  out  to  them  by  the 
savage  inhabitants  with  their  merciless  use  of  the  bow.  Tahitians 
know  of  Fiji  too,  which  they  call  Hiti,  but  the  Fijians  themselves 
know  nothing  of  the  arrival  of  any  foreigners  until  the  advent  of 
Ndeng-ei  and  the  other  heroes  who  came  much  about  the  same 
time. 

In  1870,  the  year  of  my  arrival  in  Fiji,  bows  and  arrows  were 
obsolete  weapons  as  regards  warfare,  but  were  employed  in  killing 


260  The  New  Religion 

fish.  They  were  so  completely  superseded  by  firearms  that  their 
memory  was  entirely  forgotten,  and  it  was  only  when  I  began  to 
dig  out  old  history  that  I  began  to  learn  of  their  former  use. 
Commodore  Wilkes,  of  the  United  States  Exploring  Expedition 
which  visited  the  Fijian  Group  in  1840,  mentions  the  use  of  bows 
and  arrows  when  he  sent  a  punitive  force  against  the  people  of 
Malolo,  a  small  island  on  the  western  coast  of  Viti  Levu,  who  had 
murdered  some  of  his  officers.  In  the  New  Hebrides  and  the 
Solomons  and  other  Melanesian  Islands  to  the  westward  bows  and 
arrows  until  quite  recently  were  much  in  evidence,  and  were  greatly 
dreaded,  as  the  arrows  were  steeped  in  putrid  corpses  and  the 
slightest  scratch  from  them  caused  blood-poisoning  and  dreadful 
death  from  tetanus.  It  was  thus  that  Commodore  Goodenough  of 
H.M.S.  Pearl  perished  at  Santa  Cruz  in  1875.  The  Fijian  did  not 
resort  to  such  devilry,  and  only  used  plain  arrows. 

After  I  had  been  Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  North  for 
some  time  the  people  of  Nandrau  presented  me  with  the  bow  and 
arrows  of  a  bygone  warrior  of  their  tribe  named  Telatha,  a  very 
celebrated  archer,  whose  weapon  was  known  as  the  Kalawa  ni 
Mang-a.  That  is  an  obscene  and  unprintable  term,  but  may  be 
bowdlerized  as  “  The  Causer  of  Widows,”  as  Telatha  was  a  dead 
shot  and  when  he  drew  on  any  one,  that  man’s  wife  knew  him  no 
more.  The  bow  and  arrows  were  beautiful  specimens  and  should 
be  in  the  Fiji  Museum  now,  as  part  of  the  Allardyce  collection. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  and  the 
Pilgrimage  to  the  God-land 

THE  rainy  season  of  1886,  January,  February  and  March, 
was  very  hot  and  trying,  during  which  there  was  a 
slight  hurricane  and  heavy  floods  in  the  rivers.  At 
that  period  of  the  year  one  endeavours  to  keep  quiet 
as  much  as  possible,  but  the  exigencies  of  the  Tuka  and  the  adminis¬ 
trative  work  kept  me  on  the  move  all  the  time.  In  January  I  had 
to  make  my  way  across  the  Island  to  Viti  Levu  Bay  on  the  northern 
coast  to  assist  my  colleague  of  the  Ra  Province  to  try  over  a  hundred 
of  Navosavakandua’s  followers.  In  February  I  went  to  Naroko- 
rokoyawa,  to  hold  the  Provincial  Council  of  Lomai  Tholo,  which  I 
got  through  all  right,  but  at  its  conclusion  was  bowled  over  by 
a  sharp  attack  of  dengue  fever.  I  tried  to  struggle  home  across  the 
rugged  hills  which  intervened,  but  broke  down  altogether,  and  had 
to  lie  up  in  a  little  hamlet  on  the  side  of  the  path.  There  were  no 
roads  at  all  in  those  days,  only  very  steep  and  slippery  tracks  which 
had  to  be  traversed  in  single  file,  and  in  the  hot,  steamy  wet  season 
were  particularly  trying  and  exhausting.  After  a  few  days’  rest  at 
Sawanikula,  where  I  had  pulled  up,  I  managed  to  get  to  Undu,  the 
head  of  canoe  navigation,  and  from  thence  I  was  taken  down  river 
to  Vunindawa.  Instead  of  getting  any  rest  I  had  immediately  to 
write  up  the  Council  minutes  and  my  report  for  the  information 
of  the  Resident  Commissioner.  That  was  hardly  done  when  the 
hurricane  started  on  the  third  of  March,  and  for  twenty-four  hours 
it  blew  great  guns  and  the  rivers  rose  and  overflowed  their  banks. 
As  soon  as  the  weather  broke  I  had  to  start  again  for  Viti  Levu  Bay, 
this  time  for  the  trial  of  the  great  Navosavakandua  himself,  the 
occasion  on  which  he  thought  I  was  going  to  hang  him,  which  has 
already  been  told  in  the  last  chapter  but  one. 

April  marks  the  finish  of  the  hurricane  months  and  rainy  season, 
and  near  the  end  of  it  I  made  a  start  for  Mount  Victoria  and  the 

261 


262  The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria 

Kauvandra,  the  god-land  of  Fiji.  Towards  the  close  of  1885  Sir 
John  Thurston,  who  was  then  Acting  Governor,  accompanied  by 
the  Chief  Justice,  now  Sir  Fielding  Clarke,  Sidney  Marriott,  the 
Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  West,  and  some  others  had 
ascended  Tomanivei  or  Mount  Victoria,  as  it  was  subsequently 
called,  from  the  westward.  The  naval  officer  employed  on  the 
coast  survey  had  reported  that  the  highest  land  on  Viti  Levu  was 
apparently  just  at  the  back  of  Tavua  on  the  northern  shore  of  the 
island,  so  Sir  John  determined  to  make  an  expedition  there,  and 
located  the  spot  at  Tomanivei.  He  wrote  to  me  about  it  and  desired 
that  I  should  as  soon  as  conveniently  possible  explore  the  eastern 
slopes  and  make  the  ascent  from  that  direction. 

At  that  time  there  was  a  small  syndicate  which  employed  a  man 
to  prospect  for  gold  in  the  interior  of  Viti  Levu,  which,  by  the  way, 
has  never  so  far  been  found  in  payable  quantity.  The  prospector’s 
name  was  James  Harding,  whom  I  have  mentioned  in  Chapter  V  as 
having  commanded  the  expedition  which  effected  the  pacification 
of  Tholo  East  in  1874.  Some  of  the  Wesleyan  vakavuvuli  village 
teachers  having  brought  word  that  they  had  seen  coal  on  the  slopes 
of  Tomanivei,  Harding  was  desirous  of  investigating  whether  it 
was  so,  and  as  I  was  bound  for  there  he  accompanied  me. 

When  we  started  the  rivers  were  still  running  strong,  and  it  was 
hard  work  poling  the  Vuramothe  up  stream,  but  I  remember  how 
glad  I  was  to  get  out  into  the  open  again  after  the  steam  and  muggi¬ 
ness  of  the  wet  hot  season  and  how,  as  we  got  further  into  the  hills, 
the  atmosphere  grew  fresher  and  cooler.  We  left  Vunindawa  on  a 
Saturday  and  only  got  as  far  as  Nairukuruku,  the  Wesleyan  station, 
where  my  friend  Ratu  Jona,  the  native  minister,  lived.  We  spent 
Sunday  with  him,  and  when  we  went  on  the  next  day  he  joined  our 
cortege,  which  now  began  to  swell  when  it  was  learnt  that  I  was 
about  to  essay  the  ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  and  the  Kauvandra. 
It  took  us  two  more  days  to  fight  our  way  against  the  strong  current 
to  Undu,  from  whence  we  walked  up  the  valley  of  the  Wailoa  to 
Nasongo,  which  we  reached  on  Wednesday,  the  28th  April. 

The  next  morning  we  left  there  at  nine  o’clock  and  followed  the 
gorge  of  the  Nasongo  River  until  its  huge  obstructing  boulders  and 
frequent  waterfalls  forced  us  to  climb  up  into  the  forest  land  above. 
We  had  to  ascend  a  very  steep  and  almost  precipitous  slope  called  the 
Vunisukau  until  we  reached  a  plateau  some  two  thousand  feet  above 
sea-level.  There,  in  a  lovely  glade  strewn  with  great  boulders  under 
which  we  sat  and  leant  against,  we  halted  for  a  while  and  rested. 
I  remember  how  I  rejoiced  in  the  clear,  cool,  invigorating  air  and 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  263 

enjoyed  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  All  round  the  great  stones  grew 
giant  club  moss,  and  many  of  the  trees  were  gay  with  scarlet  orchid 
blooms,  the  flowers  of  the  Dendrobium  mohlianum.  What  with  the 
hot  season,  the  dengue  fever  and  the  anxiety  and  fatigue  caused  by 
my  vigilant  watch  on  the  Tuka  I  was  feeling  very  run  down,  but  the 
crispness  and  freshness  of  the  uplands  put  fresh  life  in  me.  When¬ 
ever  I  recall  that  lovely  mountain  country  the  hundred  and  twenty- 
first  Psalm  comes  into  mind  :  (t  I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the 
hills,  from  whence  cometh  my  help.”  Afterwards,  when  I  came 
to  be  stationed  at  Nandarivatu  within  half  a  day’s  walk  of  where  we 
were  resting,  I  always  thought  of  that  verse  whenever  I  had  to  go  on 
circuit  in  the  sweltering  heat  of  the  northern  coast  plains.  But  a 
short  thirteen  miles  separated  them  from  the  cool  heights  at  their 
back,  yet  below  one  could  not  bear  even  a  sheet  at  night  as  a  coverlet, 
whilst  on  the  heights  above  we  were  glad  to  sit  round  a  roaring  fire 
of  logs. 

From  where  we  halted  at  Vunisukau  the  path  followed  the 
plateau  for  some  distance,  and  then  it  made  a  deep  descent  to 
Matanavono,  the  infant  source  of  the  River  Nasongo.  Then  there 
was  a  steep  pull  up  until  we  reached  the  plateau  again.  By  4  p.m. 
we  had  come  to  within  an  easy  distance  of  the  summit  of  Tomanivei, 
and  had  attained  an  elevation  of  about  four  thousand  feet.  Then 
the  clouds  of  vapour  which  on  the  northern  side  of  Viti  Levu 
clothe  the  mountain  tops  at  eve  were  beginning  to  gather.  They 
get  piled  up  by  the  south-east  trade  wind,  and  gazing  upwards  from 
the  coast  plains  the  hills  look  as  if  they  are  snow  clad  and  present  a 
beautiful  appearance.  The  natives  call  these  clouds  the  nde  ui  theva, 
the  scud  of  the  south-east  trades.  During  the  night  it  draws  off 
the  hills  and  whistles  through  the  valleys  and  gorges  in  the  form  of 
the  land  breeze,  and  returns  the  mountain  mists  to  the  sea. 

We  therefore  determined  to  camp  for  the  night.  In  Fiji  in  those 
days  we  could  only  travel  in  a  rough  and  ready  way,  as  there  were 
no  paths  fit  for  animal  transport,  and  consequently  we  were  not 
burdened  by  the  impedimenta  of  tents,  etc.  But  that  mattered  not 
as  the  forest  furnished  ample  material  for  hut  construction  at  which 
the  hardy  hillmen  were  adepts.  All  around  were  clumps  of  the 
vundi  ni  veli  or  banana  of  the  fairies,  the  Alpinia  boia.  Our  guides 
and  carriers  with  their  long  sixteen-inch  butcher’s  knives  soon  cut 
down  saplings  which,  tied  together  by  wild  vines,  formed  frame¬ 
works  which  they  thatched  with  the  broad  fronds  of  the  bananas, 
and  laid  their  thick  fleshy  stems  for  floors,  which  kept  the  occu¬ 
pants  well  above  the  damp  and  cold  of  the  ground.  Then  bracken 


264  The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria 

and  ferns  were  added,  above  which  were  spread  the  mats  generally 
carried  in  our  packs,  and  thus  were  provided  beds  on  which  I  have 
had  many  a  sweet  sleep.  The  natives  call  these  simple  structures 
yavusa,  and  they  are  quite  water-tight  whilst  the  leaves  are  fresh, 
but  they  have  to  be  renewed  when  they  commence  to  fade.  They 
are  quite  comfortable  and  dry  in  even  the  heaviest  rains. 

In  the  forest  lands  these  improvised  camps  are  easy  and  speedily 
run  up,  but  away  to  the  westward  of  Mount  Victoria  in  the  grassy 
country  of  Vosa  or  West  Tholo  their  construction  is  difficult  owing 
to  the  want  of  material.  Sir  John  Thurston  told  me  of  one  of  his 
early  experiences  when  as  British  Consul  before  we  annexed  Fiji 
he  accompanied  one  of  King  Thakombau’s  columns  sent  inland  in 
1867  to  try  and  avenge  Mr.  Baker’s  death.  It  had  already  been 
mentioned  how  several  were  sent  up,  and  how  all  came  to  grief 
except  this  one,  which  acted  under  Sir  John’s  advice.  It  was,  of 
course,  under  the  orders  of  a  chief  of  Mbau,  a  member  of  the  royal 
clan,  our  British  Consul  being  the  only  European  with  it.  One 
night  darkness  fell  upon  it  on  a  high  and  grassy  plateau  where  there 
was  nothing  with  which  to  construct  shelters,  except  such  grass  as 
the  place  furnished.  The  night  mists  fell  chill  and  dank,  the  ther¬ 
mometer  dropped,  there  was  only  the  scantiest  of  fires  to  shiver 
round,  and  there  was  a  general  feeling  of  depression.  After  a  while 
the  chief  in  command  of  the  royal  force  came  to  Sir  John  and  said 
he  had  managed  to  get  a  yavusa  run  up,  and  would  he  please  take 
shelter  there,  and  conducted  him  to  it.  As  far  as  could  be  seen  a 
few  spears  had  been  stuck  into  the  ground  over  which  some  mats 
had  been  slung,  forming  something  similar  to  what  the  French  call 
tent  cTabri ,  and  inside  was  what  looked  like  a  heap  of  mats.  Worn 
out  and  tired  Sir  John  flung  himself  down  and  was  just  about  to 
fall  into  the  sweetest  of  sleeps  when  he  was  startled  by  the  bed 
coughing  !  To  his  horror,  instead  of  the  fleshy  stems  of  the  wild 
banana  being  spread  to  keep  off  the  cold  earth  several  human  beings, 
the  domestic  serfs  of  some  of  the  chiefs  accompanying  the  expedition, 
had  been  utilised  for  the  purpose.  What  were  such  cheap  articles  in 
comparison  with  the  health  and  comfort  of  their  illustrious  charge  ? 
Fijians  are  always  greatly  concerned  for  the  safety  of  those  whom 
they  have  in  charge,  and  think  that  they  themselves  are  hostages 
for  it  and  personally  responsible.  I  tried  to  show  this  when  I  re¬ 
counted  how,  when  the  French  bishop  was  capsized  in  the  rapids 
by  his  Catholic  canoemen,  the  head  native  Wesleyan  minister  waited 
upon  his  confrere  on  the  other  side,  and  warned  him  that  he  would 
be  hanged  by  the  British  Government  if  by  his  carelessness  any 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  265 

under  his  charge  lost  their  lives,  even  though  they  might  be  foreign¬ 
ers  !  The  incident  of  the  coughing  bed  reminds  me  of  that  passage 
in  Westward  Ho  !  where  the  wine  of  the  Bishop  of  Carthagena  on 
board  the  great  galleon,  the  City  of  the  True  Cross,  was  cooled  by 
ice  brought  from  the  Horqueta,  the  gift  of  some  Spanish  lady,  who 
had  “  spent  ”  an  Indian  or  two  in  bringing  down  the  precious 
offering.  In  like  manner  the  high-born  chiefs  who  were  looking 
after  Sir  John  thought  it  quite  legitimate  to  use  a  few  kaisi  (slaves) 
to  ensure  his  health  and  comfort. 

My  last  memories  of  that  night  in  the  camp  below  Tomanivei, 
ere  I  fell  asleep,  are  as  of  many  phantasmagoria.  The  white  night 
mists  hung  around  like  masses  of  cotton  wool  on  which  were  sil¬ 
houetted  our  men  sitting  round  their  bivouacs  singing,  smoking  and 
drinking  yangona.  Weirdly  and  fantastically  their  forms  showed 
up  against  the  damp  fog  which  was  illumined  by  prismatic  rays  of 
many  hues  caused  by  the  reflection  of  our  fires.  Every  other  man 
or  so  had  brought  a  few  yams  and  taro,  and  the  forest  also  yielded 
savouries  wherewith  to  make  merry.  That  was  before  the  coming 
of  the  thrice-accursed  mongoose  which  has  killed  all  the  ground 
game,  frogs,  snails  and  all  the  little  relishes  and  delicacies  which 
added  to  the  joy  of  native  life.  The  beastly  little  animal  was  im¬ 
ported  by  a  sugar  planter  who  thought  thereby  to  keep  down  the 
rats  in  the  cane-fields.  But  as  the  Fijians  will  tell  you  they  are 
yalo  vata  or  of  one  accord  with  them,  and  some  of  the  natives  have 
told  me  that  in  the  stone  walls  which  surround  their  villages  the 
mongooses  and  the  rats  live  in  amity  together.  But  gone  are  the 
parrots,  the  landrails  and  ground  doves,  all  killed  by  the  devastating 
little  foreigner,  which  spares  nothing  within  his  reach.  The  same 
thing  has  happened  in  the  West  Indies,  where,  too,  the  mongoose  was 
imported  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  rats. 

Give  him  but  a  bare  chance  and  a  Fijian  will  be  happy  and  jolly, 
and  the  hardy  hillmen  are  expert  foresters  and  enjoy  life  in  the 
open,  and  that  night,  the  29th  April,  1886,  we  were  all  cheerful 
and  merry,  as  we  had  no  rain.  That  is  the  one  drawback  to  the 
highlands  on  the  weather  side  of  the  island  on  which  we  were  still. 

We  broke  camp  the  next  morning  at  eight,  and  it  took  till  noon 
to  reach  the  summit  of  Tomanivei  or  Mount  Victoria.  Before 
arriving  there  we  came  to  the  minor  summit,  which  the  natives  call 
Tomanivei  Lailai  or  Little  Tomanivei.  My  head  guide  was  the 
Mbuli  of  Mboumbutho,  and  when  we  got  there  he  jumped  forward 
to  where  were  two  small  mossy  mounds  which  looked  as  if  they  had 
been  placed  there  purposely  for  seats ;  in  fact,  Sir  John  Thurston 


266  The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria 

told  me  afterwards  that  he  had  sat  upon  one  of  them.  He  was 
conducted  thither  by  people  from  the  west  who  had  not  the  same 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  spot  as  my  man  had.  Putting  his  long 
walking  staff  under  the  first  of  them  and  saying,  “  Hallo,  here  are 
our  old  war  drums,”  the  Mbuli  prised  it  up,  and  out  came  a  medium¬ 
sized  vesi  lali  or  drum  in  an  admirable  state  of  preservation,  and 
then  he  proceeded  to  dig  out  the  other,  which  was  similar  in  size 
and  appearance.  In  the  fighting  just  prior  to  the  hoisting  of  the 
Union  Jack  in  1874  the  hard-pressed  Mboumbutho  clan  which 
was  on  our  side  had  sought  refuge  on  the  very  summit  of  Tomanivei, 
and  their  fortifications  were  to  be  found  all  around.  The  Mbuli 
gave  the  drums  to  me,  and  I  sent  them  down  to  Suva,  giving  one  to 
Sir  John  Thurston,  the  Acting  Governor,  and  the  other  to  Dr., 
afterwards  Sir  William,  Macgregor,  the  Acting  Colonial  Secretary. 
The  Mboumbutho  afterwards  laid  claim  to  all  the  land  about  there, 
and  Sir  John  was  inclined  to  back  them  up,  saying  that  their  title- 
deeds  were  slung  above  the  door  of  his  office,  as  he  had  their  war 
drum  suspended  there.  Subsequently,  though,  when  I  investigated 
the  titles  I  found  that  the  summit  of  Tomanivei  and  all  the  western 
slopes  belonged  to  a  tribe  called  the  Wana,  the  chief  of  whom,  Uli, 
always  solemnly  maintained  that  when  the  gods  created  the  world 
they  gave  the  valley  of  Wana  and  all  the  adjacent  country  to  his 
ancestors,  and  that  they  had  been  in  occupation  ever  since. 

Sir  John  Thurston  did  not  get  beyond  the  minor  summit,  and  when 
I  reached  the  main  height  at  Big  Tomanivei  I  vainly  thought  I  was 
the  first  to  reach  it,  but  afterwards  I  found  that  Sidney  Marriott 
and  some  of  the  younger  members  of  the  Acting  Governor’s  party 
had  already  been  there.  But  I  had  not  that  knowledge  then,  and 
when  I  had  climbed  the  hoary  old  vunga  tree  which  crowned  the  top 
I  felt  very  proud.  These  myrtles  grow  to  a  large  size,  that  is  to  say, 
the  ordinary  common  sort,  and  I  could  sit  comfortably  on  the 
branches,  and  there  I  was  on  the  Ului  Viti  or  top  of  Fiji.  North¬ 
east,  north  and  north-west  I  got  glimpses  of  the  sea,  whilst  southward 
rolled  the  wooded  slopes  and  high  mountain  ranges  which  obscured 
its  view  in  that  direction.  About  one  o’clock  the  mist  began  to  gather 
and  prevented  further  observation,  so  we  descended  to  Qaliwana 
or  the  Vale  of  Wana  below  the  western  shoulder  of  the  mountain, 
and  camped  in  the  huts  put  up  for  Sir  John  Thurston.  It  was  a 
lovely  spot,  over  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  cool  and  pleasant, 
through  which  flowed  one  of  the  infant  heads  of  the  Singatoka  River. 
We  were  now  on  the  western  watershed  and  on  the  lee  side  of  the 
island,  There  was  a  marked  difference  in  the  vegetation,  which  was 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  267 

no  longer  so  dense.  Belts  of  trees  occurred  with  patches  of  grass  land 
intervening,  and  the  trees  had  only  short  mosses  clinging  to  them 
instead  of  the  long  weeping  masses  to  be  found  on  the  eastern  and 
weather  side,  and  the  ground  beneath  was  dry  and  crisp  instead  of 
wet  and  spongy. 

The  news  of  our  exploit  having  reached  the  village  on  that  side, 
Namatakula,  the  inhabitants  came  out  to  greet  us,  bringing  with 
them  a  feast  of  a  whole  baked  pig  on  top  of  the  usual  basket  filled 
with  yams  and  taro.  A  root  of  yangona  was,  of  course,  also  presented 
with  the  usual  honours,  and  we  quaffed  it  that  night  round  the  camp 
fires.  Among  the  dwellers  of  Namatakula  were  some  members  of 
the  notorious  Thawanisa  tribe,  who  in  the  wars  of  King  Thakombau’s 
days  had  been  the  most  ferocious  cannibals  and  determined  enemies 
of  His  Majesty,  and  they  were  the  bogeys  by  which  the  children 
of  the  surrounding  clans  were  frightened.  Now  they  sat  round  the 
fire  and  we  all  hobnobbed  together.  I  saw  one  man  who  kept 
eyeing  Harding  curiously  and  chuckling  to  himself.  At  last  he  could 
contain  himself  no  longer,  and  turning  to  Harding  said,  “  Sir,  do  you 
remember  the  day  we  shot  you  ?  We  ambushed  you  and  bowled 
you  over,  and  the  others,  with  long  shots.  We  ought  to  have  closed 
and  finished  you  up,  but  we  were  afraid  of  the  little  guns  in  your 
belts  (revolvers).  After  you  had  been  carried  off  we  searched  the 
ground  and  I  found  a  cartridge  pouch.”  Harding  told  me  that  he 
had  lost  his  on  that  occasion.  Then  the  two  began  to  swop  yarns 
until  late  at  night  and  were  as  happy  and  jolly  together  as  possible, 
until  I  broke  up  the  party  by  saying  that  we  should  have  to  be  called 
early  the  next  morning,  as  it  was  the  first  of  May  and  we  had  a  long 
and  difficult  march  ahead. 

So  we  rose  at  dawn  and  started  to  follow  the  Singatoka  to  its 
source.  En  route  we  were  pointed  out  what  was  supposed  to  be  the 
coal  mine,  but  it  was  only  a  trunk  of  a  big  ndakua  or  Fijian  kauri 
pine,  buried  in  the  soil  and  reduced  to  charcoal  by  fire.  Oilaiso  is 
the  name  applied  to  charcoal  and  adapted  by  the  people  to  describe 
coal,  which  they  saw  for  the  first  time  as  fuel  on  board  the  steamers, 
hence  the  confusion.  We  had  an  extremely  stiff  climb  to  the  ridge 
which  divides  the  water  systems  of  the  Singatoka  and  the  Tawa,  the 
main  head  of  the  Wainimbuka,  the  mother  of  the  Rewa,  the  long 
river  which  flows  away  to  the  southern  coast.  The  divide  is  called 
Irusu-olewa-veioroi  and  is  3250  feet  above  the  sea.  Thence  we 
descended  to  the  Tawa,  until  we  arrived  at  its  junction  with  the 
Wainimbuka  at  Ndruindrui,  which  has  an  elevation  of  only 
900  feet.  The  Wainimbuka  is  a  much  smaller  stream  than  the 


268  The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria 

Tawa,  but  gives  its  name  to  the  main  river  through  rising  in  the 
Kauvandra,  the  Sacred  Mount.  Turning  up  it  we  followed  its  course 
until  we  arrived  at  the  village  of  Natunu.  It  was  now  Saturday 
evening  and  we  determined  to  halt  and  spend  Sunday  there. 

Just  behind  Natunu  is  a  small  ridge  beyond  which  is  the  northern 
sea  coast,  only  a  short  distance  off,  half-way  between  the  important 
sugar-producing  districts  of  Mba  and  Ra.  Should  a  railway  ever  be 
constructed  between  them  and  Suva  the  line  could  follow  the  valleys 
of  the  Rewa  and  Wainimbuka  at  easy  gradients  without  any  serious 
engineering  difficulties.  It  could  be  electrified  also  by  the  water 
power  from  the  numerous  brooks  en  route,  and  a  short  tunnel  through 
the  Natunu  Gap  would  bring  it  down  to  the  level  coast  plains. 

Ratu  Jona,  who  had  fallen  into  the  place  of  chaplain  to  our  little 
expedition,  preached  in  the  village  church  at  Natunu.  He  took  his 
text  from  the  destruction  of  the  prophets  of  Baal  by  Elijah,  and 
delivered  a  most  eloquent  sermon  directed  against  the  priests  and 
seers  of  the  Tuka,  the  followers  of  the  false  Navosavakandua.  I 
suppose  that  except  the  members  of  my  following,  and  even  they 
were  not  all  free  from  the  taint,  most  of  the  congregation  were 
secretly  inclined  to  the  new  religion,  but  with  the  usual  Fijian 
desire  to  please  the  discourse  was  politely  and  amiably  listened  to. 

The  next  day  we  resumed  our  journey  to  the  Kauvandra,  and  the 
cavern  of  Ndeng-ei,  as  our  objective,  to  which  some  of  the  villagers 
of  Natunu  guided  us.  The  country  through  which  we  passed  looked 
gloomy  to  me,  and  the  hills  stern  and  forbidding.  I  do  not  know 
whether  this  arose  from  imagination,  thinking  of  the  snake-god  and 
the  legends  of  his  cult,  or  whether  it  was  from  leaving  the  forest 
country  with  its  exuberant  foliage  and  exchanging  it  for  the  dry 
grassy  valleys,  interspersed  with  patches  of  arid  barren  land.  The 
impression  still  remains  with  me  and  my  photos  of  those  parts 
confirm  it. 

We  were  now  passing  through  a  most  historic  region,  which, 
however,  was  something  of  a  nightmare  owing  to  the  way  the  ancient 
names  had  become  confounded  with  the  Biblical  terms  of  the  new 
religion.  The  first  place  that  I  can  recollect  being  pointed  out  was  a 
mass  of  black  rock  properly  called  Vung-ala,  which  had  been  changed 
into  Roma  (Rome).  In  the  old  legendary  days  it  had  been  the  council 
rock  of  the  gods.  A  little  further  on  we  passed  what  the  guides  said 
was  Papiloni  (Babylon),  and  then  we  came  to  Ijipita  (Egypt).  The 
next  object  of  interest  was  the  hollow  boulder  in  which  Andi 
Vilaiwasa,  the  daughter  of  the  great  Ndeng-ei,  was  tattooed,  and 
our  guides  said,  “  Hither  still  come  our  daughters  to  follow  her 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  269 

example.”  This  was  quite  evident  from  the  blackened  roof  of  the 
shelter  which  showed  the  recent  and  frequent  use  of  fires  within. 
Then  we  came  to  a  small  rivulet  flowing  through  a  bed  composed  of 
flakes  of  rock  and  large  shingle  which  we  were  told  was  formed  by 
the  chips  of  vest  ( Ajzelia  bijuga)  caused  when  the  ark  was  cut  and 
fashioned  by  Rokola,  the  carpenter-god,  it  having  been  built  at  this 
spot.  Overshadowing  it  was  a  tree  said  to  be  that  of  good  and  evil 
or  the  tree  of  knowledge.  Those  are  the  main  points  that  I  can 
remember,  but  they  will  help  to  show  the  inextricable  jumble  of 
the  old  legends  with  the  sacred  history  of  the  Bible. 

We  at  last  reached  the  shrine  of  Ndeng-ei,  which  turned  out  not 
to  be  a  cavern  at  all,  but  the  extreme  summit  of  the  Kauvandra. 
This  mountain  is  not  named  on  the  last  Ordnance  survey,  but  is 
marked  by  a  trig  station  which  gives  the  elevation  at  2683  feet. 
It  is  just  like  a  Dartmoor  tor  with  a  peak  crowned  with  three  huge 
boulders,  two  lying  together  with  one  on  top.  There  is  a  slight 
crevice  between  the  boulders,  and  the  Fijian  word  for  any  cavity, 
whether  a  huge  cavern  or  a  superficial  crack,  is  qara,  hence  the 
mistake  I  and  others  had  fallen  into  in  imagining  that  the  lair  of 
the  snake-god  was  a  vast  and  gloomy  cave.  The  fissure  between  the 
boulders  faced  the  north-west,  the  orthodox  point  of  a  thimbathimba 
or  jumping-off  place  for  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  as  they  started  on 
their  flight  to  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed  away  beyond  the  sunset. 

In  front  of  the  shrine  was  a  heap  of  votive  offerings,  and  the  ground 
all  around  was  strewn  with  them  :  old  spears,  clubs,  whales’  teeth 
and  almost  every  description  of  native  property,  but  all  mouldering, 
honeycombed  and  rotten  with  age.  There  were  also  a  few  fragments 
of  foreign  plates,  which  pointed  somewhat  to  modern  times.  But 
even  they  seemed  to  have  been  offered  at  some  period  comparatively 
remote.  Everything  presented  the  appearance  of  decay  and  neglect ; 
even  the  track  seemed  unfrequented  and  our  guides  had  to  use  their 
knives  to  clear  the  way.  Evidently  the  god  had  fallen  into  disrepute, 
and  it  was  quite  evident  that  no  pilgrims  with  pious  gifts,  for  some 
considerable  time,  had  disturbed  the  sleep  of  the  huge  serpent  that 
was  supposed  to  slumber  there,  and  shocks  of  earthquakes  were 
consequently  few  and  far  between.  En  'passant  it  may  be  remarked 
that  Fiji  does  not  experience  many  such,  and  when  they  do  come 
they  are  but  mild.  I  was  in  the  village  of  Viria  one  Sunday  when  a 
slight  shock  occurred,  and  then  I  heard  a  subdued  noise  in  all  the 
houses.  I  was  in  the  native  magistrate’s  quarters  and  saw  nothing 
happen  to  account  for  what  had  reached  my  ears,  and  I  asked  for  an 
explanation.  “  Oh  !  ”  said  my  host,  “  all  the  people  are  pleased  at 


2yo  The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria 

the  earthquake  and  are  patting  the  mats  in  their  houses  as  a  sign  of 
joy.  Had  it  not  been  Sing-a  tambu  (Sunday)  they  would  have 
rushed  out  on  to  the  green  and  yelled,  and  would  have  beaten  the 
big  war  drums,  such  being  our  custom  whenever  the  earth  trembles.” 
I  was  forty  years  in  Fiji  and  my  only  recollection  of  earthquakes  is 
that  they  were  rare  and  not  more  frequent  than  in  England. 

How  can  this  apparent  neglect  of  the  great  Ndeng-ei  be  accounted 
for  ?  Was  it  the  new  religion  as  preached  by  Navosavakandua 
which  denounced  him  as  the  old  serpent,  the  enemy  of  mankind,  who 
was  to  be  destroyed  when  the  twin  gods  whom  he  had  banished 
returned  to  Viti  ?  These  are  questions  hard  to  be  answered,  as  the 
Fijian  is  such  a  mass  of  contradictions,  one  day  reverencing  a  sacred 
object  and  reviling  it  the  next. 

It  had  been  my  intention  to  have  spent  a  night  in  the  cavern  of 
the  god,  but  as  that  was  non-existent,  and  the  sharp  peak  at  the 
summit  offered  no  shelter  whatever,  we  determined  to  descend  the 
eastern  slopes  of  the  mountain  and  seek  refuge  at  its  foot  at  the 
village  of  Vatukathevatheva.  In  doing  so  we  passed  Ulunda,  where 
Turukawa,  Ndeng-ei’s  pet  dove  used  to  reside.  The  sun  was  setting 
when  we  reached  our  destination  and  there  the  Expedition  disbanded, 
my  guides  returning  to  their  mountain  homes,  whilst  Ratu  Jona  and 
Harding  departed  on  their  separate  ways,  and  I  went  to  stay  a  few 
days  and  rest  with  my  friend,  W.  C.  Reay,  the  Inspector  of  Native 
Taxes  at  Vaileka,  Rakiraki,  the  Government  station  for  the  Ra 
Province.  From  thence  I  took  the  road  to  the  head  of  the  Wainim- 
buka  at  the  back  of  Viti  Levu  where  my  canoe  was  waiting  and 
returned  by  water  to  Vunindawa. 

After  that  the  Tuka  died  down  for  a  while,  and  its  whole  course 
was  duly  reported  to  the  Colonial  Office  by  the  Governor  in  a  series 
of  dispatches,  and  it  was  with  much  gratification  that  I  received,  in 
conjunction  with  Mr.  Carew,  the  thanks  of  Lord  Granville,  who  was 
then  Secretary  of  State  for  the  Colonies,  for  the  manner  in  which 
we  had  dealt  with  it. 

In  July,  1886,  the  Acting  Governor,  Mr.  John  Thurston,  C.M.G. 
(he  was  knighted  in  the  following  year),  Mrs.  Thurston  and  their 
family  came  up  to  Vunindawa  for  change  of  air  and  for  the  coolness 
of  the  hill  country  and  remained  for  a  month.  The  Acting  Governor 
and  I  made  a  walking  tour  to  Narokorokoyawa.  It  had  to  be  per¬ 
force  on  foot  as  there  were  no  bridle  tracks  then.  We  returned 
via  Undu  where  the  Vuramothe,  my  large  canoe,  was  waiting, 
and  went  home  by  the  Wainimala.  Six  years  afterwards  I  took 
Sir  John  and  Lady  Thurston  over  the  same  route,  but  then  His 


The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  271 

Excellency  and  his  private  secretaries  were  able  to  ride,  and  her 
ladyship  to  use  a  rickshaw,  as  I  had  got  a  certain  amount  of  road¬ 
making  done  in  the  interval,  and  had  imported  three  rickshaws  from 
Calcutta,  such  as  are  used  about  Simla  and  at  the  other  Indian  hill 
stations.  They  were  splendid  teak-built  articles,  and  when  I  left 
Fiji,  twenty  years  afterwards,  were  still  in  use. 

Mrs.  Thurston,  as  she  then  was,  said  that  my  quarters  were  very 
pretty,  and  that  she  had  not  thought  that  a  Fijian  house  could  be 
made  so  comfortable,  and  she  has  often  since  laughingly  reminded 
me  of  the  excellent  curries  that  Ananias  used  to  concoct  with  the 
wild  ducks  and  pigeons. 

The  Acting  Governor,  too,  was  very  pleased  with  the  cleanliness 
and  prettiness  of  the  hill  villages,  so  much  so  that  he  asked  me  to 
bring  down  the  Mbulis  to  see  him  at  Suva.  Therefore,  after  I  had 
escorted  the  Government  House  party  down  to  the  Lower  Rewa 
and  duly  embarked  it  there  I  returned  to  Vunindawa,  and  then  the 
chiefs  and  I  walked  into  Suva.  But  we  only  got  a  fleeting  glance  of 
His  Excellency  as  H.M.S.  Espiegle  arrived  and  took  him  for  a  cruise 
to  the  Western  Pacific,  of  which  the  Governor  of  Fiji  is  the  High 
Commissioner. 

In  the  following  December,  early  in  the  month,  I  went  down 
river  to  Viria  to  inspect  a  shed  that  had  been  built  by  the  Soloira 
people  for  the  reception  and  storage  of  Native  Tax  produce. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth,  my  thirty-second  birthday,  I  was 
embarking  on  the  Vuramothe  to  return  home  when  I  saw  my  good 
old  Sergeant  Naikasau  arrive  on  a  small  takia,  looking  battered  and 
dishevelled,  and  he  and  his  canoemen  had  a  woebegone  look  generally, 
and  then  I  knew  that  something  dreadful  must  have  happened. 
When  I  asked  what  the  matter  was,  Naikasau  replied,  “  Sir,  our 
house  was  burnt  down  last  night.” 

It  is  eighteen  miles  from  Viria  to  Vunindawa,  and  a  hard  pole  up 
stream  (poles  are  generally  used  against  the  current  as  in  punting 
on  our  English  rivers,  and  paddles  when  drifting  with  it),  but  I  got 
back  in  time  to  see  the  ashes  of  my  home  still  smoking.  I  was  literally 
left  with  only  what  I  had  on  and  the  change  I  had  taken  with  me. 

I  took  up  my  quarters  in  the  Court  House  and  sent  a  special 
messenger  with  my  report  to  the  Resident  Commissioner.  I  also 
sent  on  down  to  my  mother  at  Suva  for  the  clothes  I  usually  kept  for 
the  occasions  that  I  went  down  there  on  leave.  In  due  course  the 
burning  of  my  house  was  laid  before  the  Acting  Governor.  Almost 
immediately  I  was  directed  to  take  the  Lower  Rewa  duty  whilst 
Mr.  Carew  came  up  to  Vunindawa  to  investigate  matters.  He  came 


272  The  Ascent  of  Mount  Victoria 

to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  an  act  of  incendiarism,  and  that  a  small 
clique  of  young  chiefs  in  my  immediate  neighbourhood  were  instru¬ 
mental  in  effecting  it.  There  was  no  actual  proof  against  any  one 
single  individual,  although  one  was  strongly  suspected.  He  added 
that  I  had  incurred  their  dislike,  although  I  had  done  nothing  but 
my  duty,  and  besides  the  injury  inflicted  upon  myself,  it  was  a 
deadly  insult  to  the  Government,  and  that  it  should  be  met  by  in¬ 
flicting  a  fine  upon  the  particular  clan  to  which  the  malcontents 
belonged. 

The  Acting  Governor  sent  for  me  and  asked  what  I  supposed  my 
loss  was.  I  put  it  down  at  a  hundred  pounds,  which  was  quite  under 
the  mark,  besides  the  destruction  of  all  my  furniture,  clothes,  equip¬ 
ment,  etc.  I  had  got  the  station  built  mostly  at  my  own  expense. 
Sir  John  Thurston  therefore  determined  that  a  fine  of  .£150  should 
be  levied,  and  this  was  done,  of  which  I  was  to  receive  .£100  and  the 
Government  £50,  for  supposed  damages  to  quarters,  etc.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  the  public  loss  was  nothing  beyond  a  few  bound  copies 
of  the  Ordinances  or  Acts  of  the  Colony,  a  little  stationery  and,  I 
think,  four  office  chairs.  The  fine  was  duly  enforced  and  paid  into 
the  Treasury,  but  eventually  I  was  given  only  .£50  whilst  the  Govern¬ 
ment  retained  the  balance.  In  January,  1887,  the  new  Governor, 
Sir  Charles  Mitchell,  arrived,  and  Sir  John  Thurston  went  on  a 
special  mission  to  Washington.  Sir  Charles  sent  for  me  and  said  I 
had  no  business,  I  or  any  other  officer,  to  have  so  much  personal 
property  in  an  outlying  station,  and  I  was  only  allowed  the  small  sum 
mentioned  above.  It  was  a  most  unjust  decision,  but  remonstrance 
on  my  part  would  have  done  no  good.  The  Governor  of  a  Crown 
Colony  in  those  days  was  very  much  a  tin  god  ;  there  was  no  cable 
to  England  and  mails  were  few  and  far  between.  Now  the  facilities 
of  communication  and  travel  have  brought  Fiji  much  closer  to  the 
homeland,  and  the  gentleman  who  presides  there  is  not  quite  the 
autocrat  he  used  to  be. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


Road  Making  and  the  Second  Tuka  Wave 

IN  February,  1887,  the  Resident  Commissioner,  attended  by  the 
cadet  with  him  for  instructional  purposes,  who  afterwards 
became  the  well-known  Chief  Commissioner  of  Ashanti,  Sir 
Francis  Fuller,  K.B.E.,  went  to  Narokorokoyawa  to  hold  the 
Provincial  Council,  whilst  I  took  the  Lower  Rewa  duty.  Being  the 
rainy  season  it  poured  in  torrents,  and  they  returned  looking  rather 
battered  and  sorry  for  themselves.  Fuller  sang  very  well  and  was 
known  as  Tosti  from  the  way  he  rendered  that  celebrity’s  “  Good¬ 
bye  ” ;  he  was  also  a  good  amateur  actor,  and  he  graphically  mimicked 
the  way  in  which  he  and  Carew  had  made  their  bedraggled  entry 
on  foot  into  Narokorokoyawa  with  their  wet  garments  clinging  to 
them  plastered  with  red  mud  acquired  by  their  frequent  falls  upon 
the  slippery  tracks  of  Tholo.  Carew  also  descanted  upon  one  of 
them  in  particular,  the  ascent  of  the  Mekemeke  ni  Kalavo  (Dancing 
Place  of  the  Rats)  which  was  diabolically  steep.  I  always  had  a 
penchant  for  road  making,  and  in  my  coffee-planting  days  had  learnt 
the  use  of  the  Ceylon  road-tracer,  so  I  determined  when  I  got  back 
into  the  hills  to  see  what  could  be  done  in  providing  something 
easier  for  the  Resident  Commissioner  ere  he  visited  Narokorokoyawa 
again.  From  Nandurulolo,  where  he  lived,  to  Naivuthini  on  the 
Wainimala,  the  journey  could  be  made  by  water,  but  from  there 
the  rest  of  the  way  had  to  be  made  on  foot,  entailing  a  tramp 
of  twenty-one  miles  over  hill  and  dale,  and  the  climbing  of  the 
Vunimolau,  whose  crest  was  about  2500  feet  above  sea-level.  From 
Naivuthini  to  Narokorokoyawa  was  therefore  my  first  objective, 
and  on  that  section  we  commenced  our  new  roads. 

The  first  thing  that  should  have  been  done  was  to  sit  down  and 
count  the  cost,  but  as  we  had  no  money  whatever  that  would  have 
been  but  added  toil.  There  is  no  merit  in  getting  things  done  when 
there  is  plenty  of  cash,  but  there  is  when  it  is  non-existent.  It  has 
already  been  shown  how  Sir  Charles  Mitchell  refused  to  grant  the 
wherewithal  to  buy  a  few  picks  and  spades,  and  how  recourse  had 
s  273 


274  R°a(i  Making  Second  Tuka  Wave 

to  be  made  to  digging-sticks  according  to  the  usage  of  old  Fiji. 
But  we  had  one  great  reserve  to  fall  back  upon,  the  stout  arms  and 
hearts  of  the  gentlemen  occupants  of  the  Provincial  Jail,  my  Lost 
Legion,  who  worked  without  pay  and  found  their  own  clothes. 
The  question  was  how  to  feed  them  when  they  were  away  from  the 
cultivations  of  the  station.  Natives  are  allowed  ten  pounds  of 
vegetable  food  a  day,  yams  and  taro,  and  the  weight  required  for  a 
fair-sized  gang  would  entail  a  heavy  transport  system,  and  absorb 
much  of  the  labour  required  for  the  road  making. 

Starting  at  Naivuthini  the  first  part  of  the  projected  new  track 
passed  through  the  tribal  lands  of  the  Ndaravakawalu.  They  were 
the  sole  owners  and  very  tenacious  of  their  rights,  and  would  not 
allow  neighbouring  people  even  to  cut  trees  for  canoe  making 
without  the  payment  of  royalties,  and  those  desirous  of  using  or 
cultivating  any  of  their  properties  had  to  pay  rent.  I  laid  the  matter 
before  the  head  men  of  the  clan  and  explained  that  landowners  were 
supposed  to  provide  facilities  for  travellers  passing  through  their 
domains,  which  the  Government  had  confirmed  to  their  use,  and 
also  that  it  was  one  of  their  customary  services  and  observances  to 
weed  and  maintain  the  ancient  paths.  If  these  were  made  and 
graded  would  they  feed  the  provincial  prisoners  if  they  were  put  on 
to  it  ?  They  gladly  acquiesced  and  the  work  was  commenced. 

The  Ndaravakawalu  Mbuli  at  that  time  was  old  and  feeble,  but 
the  next  chief  in  rank,  who  succeeded  him  at  his  death,  was  an  able 
man,  having  been  a  great  warrior  in  the  old  Devil  days  and  had  fought 
against  the  Government.  His  name  was  Na  Tha  ni  Kalou,  the 
Evil  of  the  Gods,  or  as  Carew  used  to  translate  it  “  The  Curse  of 
God,”  which  I  thought  too  drastic,  but  then  the  Resident  Com¬ 
missioner  had  a  grudge  against  him.  He  became  my  guide  and 
showed  the  gaps  through  which  to  take  the  new  path  and  helped  me 
to  peg  out  the  gradients.  He  soon  learnt  what  was  wanted,  and 
afterwards  went  ahead  with  a  gang  and  cut  the  trial  tracks,  and  almost 
invariably  selected  the  right  places. 

Sergeant  Naikasau  followed  on  with  the  prisoners  and  did  the 
earth  cutting,  and  so  the  road  rolled  on.  We  all  lived  in  yavusa  or 
bush  huts  such  as  have  been  described  in  the  last  chapter,  and  many 
happy  days  did  we  spend  at  the  work.  I  was  generally  on  ahead  with 
some  of  the  police  pegging  out  the  line,  and  we  lived  on  what  the 
country  provided.  It  was  before  the  introduction  of  the  devastating 
mongoose,  and  ducks  and  pigeons  were  plentiful,  and  the  brooks 
provided  an  ample  supply  of  sweet  small  fish  and  prawns.  At  night, 
after  work,  my  men  used  to  construct  traps  with  bamboos  and 


Road  Making  Second  Tuka  Wave  275 

weirs  with  stones  by  which  they  made  plentiful  catches.  Some 
philanthropic  settler  had  introduced  water-cress  which  spread  all 
over  the  interior,  and  the  salads  from  them  added  a  relish  to  the 
savoury  stews  and  curries  of  the  faithful  Ananias. 

As  the  roads  progressed  we  planted  the  sides  with  all  sorts  of 
useful  trees,  cinnamon,  cinchona,  Liberian  coffee,  and  many  other 
ornamental  shrubs  and  plants.  The  Fijians  through  whose  lands 
they  passed  added  crotons,  dracacnae,  coleus,  whose  gay  foliage 
enhanced  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  The  natives  are  extremely  fond 
of  such-like,  and  whenever  they  weeded  and  tended  the  paths  they 
brought  something  with  them  to  put  in  on  the  edges,  and  soon 
began  to  take  a  pride  in  the  new  ways  and  to  boast  of  them.  The 
trees  grew  and  flourished  and  afforded  a  welcome  shade  to  the 
passers-by. 

We  soon  found  that  there  were  not  enough  prisoners  to  do  all 
the  road  making  required  and  new  methods  had  to  be  devised. 
It  was  agreed  that  if  I  would  peg  out  and  grade  the  roads  the  people 
through  whose  property  they  passed  would  make  them.  Old  people 
always  rail  at  new-fangled  ideas,  and  the  Fijian  elders  were  no 
exception  to  this.  When  they  saw  how  the  paths  went  round  the 
hills  instead  of  straight  up  and  down  they  said  to  me  :  “  Well,  as 
you  have  laid  them  out  so,  we  suppose  we  must  make  them,  but  we 
will  never  use  them.  It  is  effeminate  and  degenerating  to  take  an 
easy  level  way  instead  of  climbing  over  the  hill-tops.  That  keeps 
the  muscles  of  the  legs  braced,  but  a  flat  way  makes  them  limp  and 
flabby.”  However,  when  they  were  made  they  forsook  the  former 
tracks  altogether.  The  comfort  of  the  easy  gradients  to  their  poor 
old  legs  was  so  great  that  they  speedily  gave  in,  and  before  long 
the  people  of  Tholo  East  began  to  brag  of  the  superiority  of  their 
roads,  and  soon  we  had  them  spreading  through  all  the  districts  of 
the  province,  and  they  eventually  became  the  highways  across  the 
island  connecting  Suva  and  the  southern  coast  with  Mba  and  Ra  on 
the  northern.  The  one  that  we  constructed  between  Nandarivatu 
and  Tavua,  which  lies  on  the  main  road  between  Mba  and  Ra,  is  now 
used  for  motors.  When  we  started  we  little  thought  of  such,  merely 
aspiring  to  be  able  to  use  horses,  and  soon  I  got  a  couple  of  ponies 
and  was  able  to  ride  over  a  good  part  of  Tholo  East.  The  first 
expedition  on  horseback  was  when  a  couple  of  friends  came  up 
with  their  mounts  and  we  rode  to  Narokorokoyawa.  Many  of  the 
inland  people,  especially  the  women  and  the  old  men,  had  never 
seen  horses  before,  and  as  we  forded  the  Wainimala  at  Mbotenaulu, 
just  three  miles  below  Narorokoyawa,  there  was  a  great  concourse 


276  Road  Making  &  Second  Tuka  Wave 

waiting  tojjsee  our  cavalcade,  and  we  were  acclaimed  with  loud 
shouts  of  wonder  and  with  some  fear  and  trembling  as  many  fled  from 
the  strange  and  fearsome  animals.  I  heard  one  old  grey-beard  say 
to  his  cronies  around  him  :  “  Boys,  it’s  all  up  with  us  now,  it  would 
be  no  use  to  try  and  fight  the  white  men  as  they  would  bring  up 
these  four-footed  beasts  which  would  smell  us  out,  catch  and  rend 
us  to  pieces  !  ” 

The  first  bridge  of  any  size  that  we  constructed  was  over  the 
Motonoko  stream  just  outside  Viria.  It  was  only  a  little  rivulet, 
but  boggy,  and  the  banks  were  high  and  sloped  outwards  forming 
a  wide  V-shaped  depression,  creating  a  span  of  about  thirty  or  forty 
feet.  There  were  no  means  of  driving  piles,  nor  was  there  any 
material  beyond  what  could  be  obtained  on  the  spot.  For  some 
time  I  racked  my  brains  as  to  what  I  could  do.  There  happened, 
however,  to  be  two  very  fine  ndawa  trees  growing  there  and  these 
were  felled  and  with  them  the  stream  was  spanned.  They  were 
adzed  down  and  gave  a  surface  breadth  of  about  six  feet.  But 
necessarily  they  would  be  very  slippery  in  wet  weather  and  danger¬ 
ous  for  horses.  All  around  were  numerous  tree  ferns,  whose  trunks 
are  rough  and  gritty  like  peat  and  give  good  foothold.  A  lot  of 
them  were  cut  and  pegged  across  the  ndawa  trunks  and  were  just 
the  very  thing,  and  we  used  them  everywhere  for  decking  bridges. 
It  was  a  great  source  of  pride  and  joy  to  overcome  obstacles  in  our 
rough-and-ready  way  with  the  materials  we  found  in  the  bush. 
Afterwards,  just  before  I  left  the  Colony,  when  we  were  allowed 
subsidies  for  road  maintenance  and  there  was  plenty  of  money  to 
spend,  I  used  to  feel  positively  wicked  at  doing  so.  We  then  had 
Road  Boards  on  which  sat  the  leading  settlers  and  natives  of  the 
various  provinces,  which  regulated  the  making  and  maintenance  of 
the  roads  and  bridges.  In  one  way  it  was  a  great  relief  because  the 
natives  were  then  paid  for  the  upkeep  of  the  main  thoroughfares 
which  they  had  hitherto  maintained  by  their  customary  services. 
The  latter  method  was  quite  correct  when  they  were  the  only 
users  of  the  roads  and  the  owners  of  the  soil,  but  when  traffic 
increased  and  they  were  used  largely  by  whites  and  Indians  it  was 
only  fair  that  the  expense  of  keeping  them  in  order  should  be  paid 
from  the  public  funds. 

Every  other  year  or  so  we  used  to  be  scourged  with  influenza  or 
dengue  fever  during  the  rainy  season,  when  we  ought  to  have  ceased 
from  road  making.  We  always  intended  to  keep  quiet  then,  but 
often  the  exigencies  of  the  moment  kept  us  at  work,  and  sometimes 
nearly  the  whole  camp  would  be  laid  up  with  the  prevailing  epidemic. 


Road  Making  Second  Tuka  Wave  277 

It  used  to  cause  me  poignant  anxiety,  but  we  got  through  without 
any  casualties  until  1898,  after  we  had  been  tw'elve  years  road  making. 
That  was  quite  a  good  and  mild  season,  and  Naikasau  was  operating 
with  the  gang  in  the  low  country  between  the  coast  and  Nandarivatu 
when  he  was  seized  by  the  influenza.  We  got  him  up  to  Waikum- 
bukumbu,  the  village  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  and  considered  him  to 
be  convalescent,  but  I  believe  he  took  a  bath  there  in  the  cold 
mountain  stream  which  flows  through  it,  and  got  a  violent  relapse. 
I  went  down  and  had  him  carried  up  to  Nandarivatu  and  put  him 
into  the  room  next  my  own.  When  I  went  to  see  him  the  last  thing 
at  night  I  thought  he  was  on  the  mend,  but  at  dawn  the  next  morning 
I  found  him  dead  in  his  bed.  He  was  a  very  great  loss  to  me,  as  a 
truer,  straighter  man  never  lived,  and  if  ever  any  one  fought  the 
good  fight  he  did.  Not  only  did  he  superintend  the  road  opera¬ 
tions  in  my  district,  but  he  was  frequently  borrowed  from  me  by 
the  Central  Government  and  sent  to  other  districts  for  similar 
purposes.  However,  his  mantle  fell  upon  Ratu  Veli,  the  junior 
subaltern,  and  we  carried  on  the  work  up  to  the  time  of  my  leaving, 
and  constructed  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  bridle  tracks  practic¬ 
able  for  horses  where  previously  they  had  been  unable  to  go. 

It  was  a  never-ending  job.  During  the  dry  season  we  would  get 
all  the  tracks  into  the  most  excellent  order,  then  would  come  the 
rains  whose  torrential  downpour  cut  them  to  pieces.  It  was  like 
Penelope’s  web — what  the  dry  weather  saw  accomplished  the  wet 
season  destroyed.  The  roads  were  our  pets  and  it  was  a  point  of 
honour  to  keep  them  in  order. 

It  was  great  fun  blasting,  as  the  Fijians  delighted  in  the  noise 
and  excitement  of  the  operation.  I  had  to  be  present  at  the  firing 
of  each  charge  in  accordance  with  a  promise  made  to  Sir  John 
Thurston,  who  feared  that  the  recklessness  and  ignorance  of  the 
Fijians  would  lead  to  fatal  consequences.  I  had  the  greatest  diffi¬ 
culty  in  making  them  take  cover,  and  they  were  foolhardy  from 
want  of  knowledge.  When  we  started  doing  a  little  musketry  at 
Nandarivatu  many  of  the  men  volunteered  to  act  as  markers,  and 
suggested  that  they  should  go  up  alongside  the  target  whilst  practice 
was  going  on.  The  loud  explosions  at  blasting  afforded  them  the 
keenest  pleasure  and  they  yelled  with  delight.  They  generally  do  so 
whenever  guns  are  fired  and  are  connoisseurs  in  matters  of  sound. 
The  A.N.C.  were  armed  with  the  old-fashioned  Martini-Henrys 
which  gave  forth  loud  reports.  When  the  Lee-Enficlds  began  to 
come  in  and  the  natives  heard  a  party  of  blue-jackets  fire  a  feu  de  joie 
with  them  they  said  the  new  guns  were  no  good,  and  only  made  a 


278  Road  Making  Second  Tuka  Wave 

crackling  noise  like  fire  in  a  bamboo  brake.  After  firing  a  blast  I 
have  heard  the  men  say  :  “  That  was  something  like  a  bang.  That’s 
the  best  one  we’ve  had  yet.”  Blasting  is  rather  an  art  and  we  were 
the  merest  tyros  at  it,  and  probably  had  to  put  in  many  more 
charges  than  a  skilled  quarryman  would.  At  one  tough  rocky  point  on 
the  road  on  the  hill-side  near  Nandarivatu  we  fired  thirty-three 
charges.  When  we  had  finished,  the  A.N.C.  who  were  with  me 
asked  the  number  of  them.  When  I  told  him  I  also  inquired  why 
they  wanted  to  know.  “  Just  to  make  a  vakamalolo  or  a  song  about 
them.”  All  their  sports,  games  and  doings  generally  are  so  com¬ 
memorated. 

In  July,  1890,  I  was  suddenly  ordered  to  go  and  act  as  Resident 
Commissioner  of  Tholo  West  and  Stipendiary  Magistrate  for  Mba, 
Ra  and  the  Yasawa  Islands,  as  the  officer  there  desired  six  months’ 
leave  on  urgent  private  business.  I  had  a  most  interesting  time, 
with  two  delightful  cruises  to  the  Yasawas,  but  there  is  not  space 
enough  left  to  recount  them  here. 

It  was  eight  months  before  my  colleague  returned.  There  were 
no  telegraphs  or  telephones  in  those  days,  and  I  did  not  know  that  he 
had  come  back  until  he  turned  up  on  the  1st  of  April,  1891,  in  the 
Government  steamer  Clyde.  I  handed  over  at  once  and  left  at 
daylight  the  next  morning  for  Suva,  and  got  back  to  Tholo  East  as 
soon  as  possible. 

I  found  that  Luka  and  Luve-ni-wai  were  rife  again  all  over  the 
central  parts  of  Viti  Levu,  and  I  had  an  exceedingly  busy  time.  The 
people  were  very  funny  about  it,  like  a  lot  of  naughty  children. 
They  knew  that  it  would  all  be  discovered,  and  they  hastened  to  try 
and  make  their  peace  by  confessing  and  offering  bribes  to  me. 
Every  man  is  said  to  have  his  price,  and  mine  was  supposed  to  be 
the  making  of  roads.  At  Narokorokoyawa  the  youth  of  Noemalu 
had  been  doing  Luve-ni-wai  with  Aleferete,  the  district  scribe,  at 
their  head.  He  came  down  and  suggested  that  their  transgression 
should  be  overlooked  and  they  would  continue  the  path  from 
Narokorokoyawa  to  the  villages  further  on  as  mubulumbulu  or  the 
burial  or  obliteration  of  the  offence.  In  Mboumbutho  the  Luka 
was  in  full  cry  again,  and  the  big  village  of  Nasongo  had  developed 
destroying  angels  who  presided  over  the  shores  of  the  damned, 
whilst  there  were  others  who  looked  after  the  salvation  of  mankind 
and  were  the  dispensers  of  immortality.  Navosavakandua  in  his 
astral  form  appeared  to  them  and  they  also  received  letters  from 
him  wafted  by  the  winds  or  brought  in  the  beaks  of  birds.  Truly  it 
was  a  mad  world.  But  my  return  filled  the  votaries  with  consterna- 


Road  Making  &?  Second  Tuka  Wave  279 

tion  and  they  did  not  wait  to  offer  to  make  a  road,  but  actually 
made  a  long  section  of  the  path  that  was  wanted  to  connect  Mboum- 
butho  with  Undu.  It  was  very  well  done,  and  up  to  the  time  of 
my  leaving  Fiji  was  still  in  use. 

If  it  had  rested  with  me  I  should  have  accepted  the  bribes.  There 
was  no  personal  advantage  to  myself,  and  the  roads  were  most 
useful  to  the  people,  and  works  of  public  utility.  But  when  I 
reported  to  the  Resident  Commissioner  he  would  be  no  party  to 
holding  a  candle  to  the  Devil  nor  of  condoning  offences.  So  I  had 
to  send  scores  to  prison,  and  as  they  had  to  go  to  the  Central  Jail 
at  Suva,  that  institution  overflowed  and  other  Government  buildings 
had  to  be  used. 

The  inland  people  in  the  eastern  and  northern  parts  of  Viti  Levu 
had  been  left  very  much  to  themselves,  with  the  result  that  the 
Government  was  but  a  name  to  them  and  there  was  no  outward 
and  visible  sign  of  its  existence.  In  Tholo  West,  where  the  Little 
War  had  occurred,  a  post  had  been  established,  Fort  Carnarvon,  and 
there  the  Union  Jack  and  the  A.N.C.  garrison  were  tokens  of  the 
Matanitu  or  Government.  Truly,  there  was  a  magisterial  station 
at  Vunindawa  where  I  lived,  but  it  was  down  on  the  navigable  part 
of  the  Rewa,  and  remote  front  the  small  districts  right  in  the  central 
hills  which  were  difficult  of  access.  So  the  Governor,  Sir  John 
Thurston,  determined  to  place  a  new  armed  constabulary  camp 
in  that  region  and  place  me  in  charge  of  it. 

To  fix  upon  the  proper  site  and  to  study  matters  on  the  spot  he 
decided  to  make  a  march  across  the  Island  to  the  northern  coast  at 
Tavua,  and  for  that  purpose  came  up  to  Vunindawa  at  the  close 
of  June,  1891,  accompanied  by  the  Resident  Commissioner,  Frank 
Spence,  the  Private  Secretary,  the  Honourable  John  Berry,  Com¬ 
missioner  of  Lands  and  Works,  and  two  American  friends  whom 
he  had  met  during  his  mission  to  Washington  some  few  years  previ¬ 
ously.  These  latter  were  Henry  Quincy  Adams,  a  great-grandson 
of  the  celebrated  John  Quincy  Adams,  the  successor  of  Washington  ; 
his  grandfather,  too,  had  been  President  of  the  United  States,  and 
he  himself  had  been  for  some  years  Secretary  of  Legation  at  the 
American  Embassy  in  London.  The  other  was  John  Lafarge,  the 
well-known  New  York  artist.  Both  were  over  seventy,  and  I  have 
often  wondered  how  they  managed  to  endure  the  hardships  and 
fatigue  of  the  rough  journey  through  the  rugged  hills  of  Viti  Levu 
that  we  were  just  about  to  undertake  mostly  on  foot. 

We  left  Vunindawa  on  Monday,  the  29th  June,  our  American 
guests  proceeding  by  canoe,  the  rest  of  us  on  foot.  We  made  a 


280  Road  Making  Second  Tuka  Wave 

stage  of  twelve  miles  that  day  and  slept  in  the  village  of  Nakorosuli, 
where  my  friend  Simon  Badboy  was  the  head  man.  The  totem  of 
the  people  there  is  the  old  and  hoary  eel  which  disports  itself  in  an 
adjacent  pool  in  the  Wainimala  hard-by,  about  which  mention  has 
been  made  in  a  previous  chapter.  We  all  walked  the  next  day 
until  we  reached  the  junction  of  the  Waisomo  and  the  Wainimala. 
That  was  the  limit  of  the  made  road  in  those  days,  and  the  party 
embarked  on  canoes  with  the  exception  of  myself  and  the  private 
secretary,  and  we  followed  the  track  up  the  river-bed  fording  from 
side  to  side.  There  Spence,  the  private  secretary,  stumbled  on  a 
slippery  stone  and  sprained  his  ankle  which  rendered  him  hors  de 
combat,  and  I  had  to  send  him  down  the  river  by  canoe  on  his  way 
back  to  Suva,  and  in  addition  to  my  own  duties  I  had  to  take  over 
his  also  and  act  as  A.D.C.  to  the  Governor. 

We  reached  Undu  that  evening  and  were  received  by  the  Lomai 
Tholo  chief  and  people,  who  presented  whales’  teeth  with  much 
ceremony,  and  rendered  the  usual  formalities  customary  upon 
State  occasions.  The  next  morning  there  was  a  great  gathering  of 
the  clansmen  in  the  village  square,  which  had  a  large  banyan  tree 
in  the  centre  surrounded  by  a  broad  platform  of  stones  about  three 
feet  high  like  the  chabutra  of  Indian  rural  life.  On  this  sat  the 
Governor  with  the  Resident  Commissioner  and  myself,  and  His 
Excellency  harangued  the  people  and  admonished  them  about  the 
folly  of  reviving  the  Tuka  again  and  the  dangers  of  the  old  heathen 
superstitions,  a  good  deal  of  which  had  been  happening  in  Muaira 
in  which  district  we  were  then.  The  Mbuli  was  called  to  the  fore 
and  severely  rebuked.  I  afterwards  gleaned  the  public  opinion  of 
what  was  said  to  him,  and  heard  one  man  say  :  “  When  our  great 
Kovana  (Governor)  was  talking  to  Mbuli  Muaira  my  heart  came 
up  into  my  mouth,  as  I  thought  now  the  next  thing  to  happen  will 
be  that  the  soldiers  of  the  escort  will  be  ordered  to  shoot  him.” 
I  had  to  be  always  up  and  down  among  the  people  on  an  expedition 
of  this  sort  to  get  the  baggage  properly  sorted  out  and  divided 
amongst  the  carriers.  First  of  all  there  was  the  getting  off  of  the 
head  of  the  column  with  the  Governor  and  his  entourage,  and  then 
I  had  to  remain  to  see  the  tail  off  and  that  the  carriers  did  not  unduly 
linger  for  a  last  smoke  or  meal.  All  told  we  mustered  about  two 
hundred  and  made  a  long  straggling  line,  for  we  had  to  march  in 
single  file  along  the  narrow  and  devious  native  tracks  as  by  now  we 
had  come  to  the  end  of  my  roads.  On  my  frequent  passages  from 
front  to  rear  I  used  to  hear  a  good  deal  of  gossip,  which  was  a  very 
fair  index  of  popular  opinion. 


Standing  nut  to  ton  followed  bv  the  prayers  of  the  tribe  that  each  canoe  may  fulfil  the  Ratu’s  levy  and  not  have  to  make  it  good 

with  their  own  bodies. 


Road  Making  @sf  Second  Tuka  Wave  281 

The  track  for  the  next  three  days  followed  the  beds  of  the  Wailoa 
and  Nasongo  Rivers,  which  it  crossed  many  times  according  as  the 
beds  of  shingle  on  either  side  gave  better  going.  It  was  altogether 
too  rough  for  our  elderly  American  friends,  and  I  had  a  tavata  or 
native  litter  made  for  each  of  them  in  which  they  were  carried. 
They  were  made  with  saplings,  and  to  make  them  soft  covered  with 
grass  over  which  mats  were  spread  and  so  was  provided  a  certain 
amount  of  rough  comfort.  They  were  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  four 
stalwart  bearers,  one  at  each  corner,  which  placed  them  rather  high 
up,  and  there  was  a  danger  of  the  occupants  being  tilted  out.  At 
one  stage  of  our  journey  there  was  a  nasty  rocky  cliff  round  which 
we  had  to  sidle  on  a  narrow  slippery  ledge.  I  had  not  seen  our 
guests  for  some  time,  so  I  waited  there  for  them.  When  they  did 
turn  up  I  found  that  their  bearers  had  lashed  them  head  and  foot 
on  to  their  litters  to  prevent  them  slipping  off  in  bad  places.  I 
should  not  have  been  surprised  if  they  had  shown  signs  of  nervous¬ 
ness,  as  the  men  in  charge  of  them  were  a  wild-looking  lot,  and  but 
a  few  short  years  before  had  been  cannibals.  However,  neither  had 
turned  a  hair ;  they  quite  recognised  the  necessity  of  the  treatment 
to  which  they  had  been  subjected  and  the  good  faith  of  those  who 
inflicted  it.  They  were  as  jolly  as  possible  and  treated  the  whole 
matter  as  a  joke,  and  eventually  I  delivered  them  sound  and  hearty 
on  the  northern  coast  where  they  and  the  Governor  and  the  rest 
of  his  party  embarked  on  the  Clyde,  in  which  they  returned  to 
Suva. 

When  we  got  to  Nasongo,  which  is  the  last  village  on  the  Waini- 
mala  watershed  before  the  eastern  ascent  of  Mount  Victoria  is 
made,  we  halted  for  a  couple  of  days  to  give  ourselves  and  our  party 
a  slight  rest  from  the  fatigues  of  the  rough  journey  on  foot,  and  to 
permit  of  the  settlement  of  certain  judicial  and  administrative 
details.  We  left  again  on  the  morning  of  Saturday,  the  4th  July, 
1901.  Just  before  we  started,  when  I  was  able  to  have  a  word  or 
two  quietly  with  the  Governor,  I  asked  him  if  he  had  recollected 
that  it  was  the  glorious  fourth  of  July.  He  replied  that  it  had  quite 
slipped  his  memory  and  that  he  thought  his  American  friends  had 
overlooked  it  also.  He  told  me  to  keep  quiet  and  say  nothing,  but 
that,  if  possible,  I  should  produce  something  extra  to  drink  when  we 
halted  for  lunch,  and  that  I  should  warn  the  commander  of  the 
escort,  Lieutenant  Ratu  Epeli,  to  be  prepared  to  fire  a  salute. 

We  followed  the  same  route  which  I  had  used  in  1886,  with  the 
heart-breaking  climb  up  the  Vunisukau.  I  remember  how  thirsty 
were  all  those  on  foot,  and  with  what  delight  we  hailed  the  appear- 


282  Road  Making  &  Second  Tuka  Wave 

ance  of  the  thoughtful  Ananias  who  skipped  to  and  fro  with  a  big 
camp  kettle  full  of  icy  cold  water  drawn  from  a  hillside  spring. 
Of  course  on  such  an  occasion  as  this  he  had  not  failed  to  report 
for  duty,  for  “  where  the  carcass  is  there  will  the  eagles  be  gathered 
together.”  A  vice-regal  progress  in  Fiji  is  marked  by  the  slaughter 
of  many  pigs,  much  drinking  of  kava  and  prodigious  feasts.  In 
ancient  Fijian  life  all  labour  was  paid  for  in  sumptuous  donations 
of  food,  and  usually  when  an  official  tour  was  made  through  the 
hills  many  attached  themselves  to  the  cortege  for  the  sake  of  the 
good  living.  On  this  occasion  Sir  John  Thurston  and  I  spied  one 
gentleman,  whom  we  dubbed  as  our  “  general  utility  man,”  who 
had  strolled  in  casually  and  joined  our  train.  He  was  indeed  most 
handy,  acting  as  our  official  carver.  That  in  all  public  Fijian 
functions  is  a  most  important  and  delicate  post.  It  has  already  been 
observed  that  at  feasts  pigs  are  presented  baked  whole  and  have  to  be 
cut  up  afterwards  for  distribution,  and  the  man  who  does  it  has  to 
be  a  past-master  in  native  ceremonial  and  a  skilful  dissector.  The 
head  is  the  joint  of  honour  and  has  to  be  given  to  the  most  important 
of  the  guests,  and  the  animal  has  to  be  sliced  up  so  that  no  one  party 
gets  more  than  another,  and  frequently  there  is  a  good  deal  of 
heartburning  over  the  division.  However,  our  man  always  rose  to 
the  occasion,  and  was  full  of  tact  and  ready  to  take  up  any  little 
duty.  For  instance,  the  Governor’s  matanivanua  or  head  talking 
man,  native  A.D.C.  and  general  factotum,  was  elderly  and  corpulent, 
and  was  often  not  to  be  found  when  thanks  had  to  be  returned  for 
presentations  of  food  and  kava.  Then  our  general  utility  man  would 
throw  himself  into  the  breach  and  perform  the  customary  cere¬ 
monies.  Not  only  was  he  our  carver  but  our  toastmaster  also,  and 
at  our  official  dinners  here  in  England  when  the  stately  toast¬ 
master  gets  up  to  perform  his  duty  my  memory  goes  back  to  the 
Fijian  wilds  and  our  general  utility  man. 

We  halted  for  lunch  in  the  shady  and  cool  grove  above  the 
Vunisukau  where  I  had  previously  rested  on  my  first  journey.  I 
produced  some  bottles  of  claret,  and  Sir  John  Thurston  toasted  his 
guests  and  the  Great  Republic  on  this  their  Independence  Day. 
I  think  that  Messrs.  Adams  and  Lafarge  had  really  quite  forgotten 
all  about  their  national  anniversary,  and  were  genuinely  surprised  at 
our  recollection  of  it.  I  think,  too,  that  Adams  was  almost  more 
English  than  the  English,  and  that  his  heart  was  entirely  so.  We  were 
all  very  happy  together  and  felt  quite  like  a  family  party,  Sir  John 
being  connected  with  the  family  from  whom  Miles  Standish  sprang, 
and  I  with  that  of  William  Brewster  of  Mayflower  celebrity.  It 


Road  Making  &  Second  Tuka  Wave  283 

goes  without  saying  that  the  glorious  bangs  made  by  the  firing  of 
the  salute  filled  our  following  with  joy,  and  I  heard  some  of  them 
remark  that  the  noise  would  roll  down  the  valleys  of  Vosa  and 
startle  the  villagers  far  and  wide.  The  only  discordant  note  was  a 
growl  from  old  Carew,  the  Resident  Commissioner,  who  said  he 
objected  to  volley  firing  as  it  would  disturb  the  equanimity  of  the 
inland  people  and  give  rise  to  disturbing  rumours,  and  I  think  he 
was  right. 

That  night  we  camped  at  Matanavono,  the  source  of  the  Nasongo 
River,  and  the  next  day  we  reached  the  Valley  of  Wana,  at  the 
western  foot  of  Mount  Victoria.  There  we  were  met  by  Sidney 
Marriott,  the  Resident  Commissioner  of  West  Tholo,  and  by  some 
of  the  local  native  officials.  Marriott  remained  the  night  only  with 
us  and  then  returned  to  his  duty  at  Mba.  We  moved  on  the  next 
day  to  the  village  of  Namatakula,  which  is  2700  feet  above  the 
sea.  We  remained  there  for  two  days  resting  in  that  cool  and 
salubrious  climate,  where  nightly  the  thermometer  sank  into  the 
low  fifties.  Poor  old  John  Lafarge  was  in  rather  delicate  health, 
but  I  heard  him  say  to  Adams  how  much  better  the  food  tasted 
there  than  it  did  at  Tahiti,  from  whence  they  had  come  to  stay  with 
Sir  John  Thurston.  Inwardly  I  felt  elated  and  took  it  as  a  compli¬ 
ment  to  my  catering  and  general  care  of  the  Expedition.  But  I 
should  have  ascribed  it  to  the  cool  crisp  air  of  that  delightful  spot, 
as  I  had  been  there  once  before  when  I  was  acting  for  Marriott  on 
a  forced  march  which  I  had  to  make  from  Fort  Carnarvon  to  Rakiraki 
towards  the  end  of  1890.  I  broke  down  on  the  way  and  rested  at 
Namatakula  for  a  couple  of  days,  where  the  delightful  climate  set 
me  up  again  entirely. 

Whilst  we  were  there  I  accompanied  Sir  John  Thurston  in  a  stroll 
about  the  environs  of  the  village.  After  we  had  got  towards  the 
edge  of  it  I  saw  that  we  were  being  dogged  by  tw;o  boys.  Suddenly 
they  jumped  forward  and  threw  themselves  in  front  of  the  Governor 
and  each  embraced  one  of  his  legs,  which  they  kissed  and  bedewred 
with  their  tears,  the  elder  of  the  two  at  the  same  time  holding  a 
tambua  aloft.  They  came  to  beg  for  the  release  of  their  father  who 
was  a  “  lifer  ”  in  Suva  Jail.  His  name  wras  Tavaiyalo,  which  means 
“  The  Dissector  of  the  Soul,”  and  he  had  been  condemned  to  death 
for  the  murder  of  his  wife  shortly  after  the  assumption  of  the 
sovereignty  of  the  group  by  Queen  Victoria.  It  was  so  soon  after 
that  event  and  so  much  before  the  people  had  grasped  the  effect  of 
the  new  regime,  and  being  accompanied  by  certain  extenuating 
circumstances  that  the  death  sentence  was  commuted  into  penal 


284  Road  Making  &  Second  Tuka  Wave 

servitude  for  life,  and  he  had  already  served  fifteen  years.  Sir 
John  Thurston  knew  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case  as  Tavaiyalo 
was  now  old,  and  being  of  good  conduct  had  worked  as  a  gardener 
in  the  Government  House  grounds.  His  Excellency  did  not  take 
long  to  make  known  his  decision,  and  there  and  then  granted  the 
boys’  petition,  and  instructed  me  to  keep  them  in  charge  until  he 
got  back  to  Suva,  when  I  was  to  send  them  down  to  him.  This  was 
done,  and  “  The  Dissector  of  the  Soul  ”  was  delivered  into  their 
arms.  They  brought  him  up  to  me,  and  he  and  they  were  ever 
afterwards  my  loyal  and  devoted  friends,  and  although  I  had  only 
been  accidentally  with  the  Governor  at  the  preferring  of  the  petition 
I  was  ever  afterwards  associated  with  his  act  of  clemency.  Old 
Tavaiyalo  was  a  thin-faced  and  intellectual-looking  man,  and,  as 
far  as  I  can  recollect,  was  alive  when  nineteen  years  afterwards  I 
finally  left  the  scene  of  my  labours. 

We  left  Namatakula  on  Wednesday,  the  8th  July,  and  lunched  at 
Nandarivatu,  which  subsequently  was  my  home  for  eighteen  years. 
There  the  party  split  up,  the  Governor,  his  guests  and  Carew  pro¬ 
ceeding  to  Tavua  where  the  Clyde  was  waiting  for  them.  They 
went  from  thence  to  Mba  and  returning  up  coast  called  in  at  Nanu- 
kuloa,  the  capital  of  the  Ra  Province,  where  John  Berry  and  I  joined 
them  again  after  we  had  made  our  way  thither  via  the  head-waters 
of  the  Wainimbuka,  over  part  of  the  way  which  I  had  followed  on 
my  pilgrimage  to  the  god-land  in  1886.  From  Nanukuloa  the 
Governor  and  his  party  returned  to  Suva,  whilst  I  walked  over  to 
the  Wainimbuka  and  took  my  canoe  to  Vunindawa.  Our  expedition, 
from  the  time  the  Governor  and  his  party  arrived  at  Vunindawa  on 
the  27th  June  until  they  left  Nanukuloa  on  board  the  Clyde  on  the 
1 6th  July,  occupied  three  weeks,  during  which  time  we  had  not  a 
single  drop  of  rain  and  throughout  were  favoured  with  the  most 
glorious  weather.  Our  only  untoward  incident  was  the  spraining 
of  poor  Spence’s  ankle. 

In  October  of  each  year  the  annual  Fijian  budget  is  discussed 
in  the  Legislative  Council.  In  that  month  following  our  march 
across  Viti  Levu  it  was  decided  that  a  new  inland  province  should 
be  established  and  known  as  Tholo  North,  with  a  Resident  Commis¬ 
sioner  in  charge,  for  which  the  necessary  appropriations  and  grants 
were  made,  and  I  was  notified  that  I  had  been  selected  for  the  post. 
It  did  not  come  into  effect  until  the  following  year,  and  I  did  not 
actually  take  up  my  quarters  there  until  August,  1892.  But  in  the 
meantime  I  was  occupied  in  doing  preliminary  work,  exploring  and 
reporting  upon  the  most  likely  spot  for  the  new  station.  Eventually 


Road  Making  Second  Tuka  Wave  285 

Nandarivatu  was  chosen,  and  I  camped  there  on  the  23rd  May 
and  pegged  out  the  lines  on  the  following  morning,  the  24th  May, 
the  Queen’s  birthday,  1892.  I  think  that  I  was  always  a  loyal  man, 
and  it  pleased  me  to  think  that  I  commenced  my  work  in  the  new 
province  on  such  an  auspicious  day. 

In  the  following  June  Sir  John  and  Lady  Thurston,  with  their 
family,  accompanied  by  the  private  secretaries,  nurses,  domestic 
servants,  etc.,  came  up  to  Vunindawa  and  remained  for  a  fortnight. 
Sir  John  wished  to  see  for  himself  what  had  been  done  in  Lomai 
Tholo,  and  to  go  to  Narokorokoyawa  by  the  new  road.  Accordingly, 
leaving  the  children  at  Vunindawa,  we  went  up  thither,  the  Governor 
and  the  private  secretaries  on  horseback  and  Lady  Thurston  in  a 
rickshaw.  I  think  I  have  already  told  that  on  this  journey  Sir  John’s 
horse  put  his  foot  through  one  of  our  bridges  and  rolled  his  master 
off.  I  was  away  at  the  rear  of  the  column  looking  after  the  rickshaw, 
as  it  was  the  first  time  a  wheeled  conveyance  had  been  over  our 
tracks.  I  had  ridden  often  enough  and  was  not  troubled  by  any 
thoughts  of  the  horsemen.  When,  however,  the  column  checked 
I  heard  gasps  of  dismay  from  those  just  ahead  of  me  and  fears 
expressed  lest  Mbuli  Nadaravakawalu,  through  whose  district  we 
were  passing,  should  be  called  out  and  summarily  shot.  Lady 
Thurston  wanted  to  know  what  the  matter  was,  but  I  managed  to 
conceal  the  truth.  I  knew  nothing  serious  had  happened,  as  a  man 
came  down  the  line  immediately  with  a  reassuring  message  to  me  from 
His  Excellency. 

We  halted  for  a  night  at  a  roadside  village,  reaching  Narokoroko¬ 
yawa  the  next  day.  We  stayed  there  a  day  and  then  went  down 
river.  At  the  next  village,  Mbotenaulu,  we  had  to  discard  our  horses 
and  rickshaw  as  the  road  terminated  there.  I  had  Lady  Thurston 
carried  in  a  tavata  to  Undu,  and  there  we  embarked  on  our 
canoes. 

Sir  John  Thurston  was  greatly  pleased  with  all  he  saw,  and  con¬ 
vened  a  great  meeting  of  the  chiefs  at  Vunindawa  to  express  his 
appreciation  to  them.  As  a  rule  each  year  there  was  a  Great  Council 
of  the  chiefs  at  which  the  people  meet  the  Governor  and  hold  a 
sort  of  annual  parliament,  about  which  reference  has  already  been 
made.  At  these  assemblies  it  was  the  custom  for  the  Governor  to 
distribute  presents  to  the  value  of  one  hundred  pounds.  This  year, 
1892,  for  some  reason  the  Great  Council  did  not  meet,  and  the 
money  that  should  have  been  spent  was  available,  and  the  Governor 
decided  to  buy  one  hundred  pounds’  worth  of  road  tools,  such  as 
spades,  picks,  etc.,  and  give  them  to  the  inland  people.  A  gathering 


286  Road  Making  &  Second  Tuka  Wave 

was  therefore  arranged  at  Vunindawa,  for  which  the  neighbouring 
districts  supplied  the  customary  feasts  in  the  way  of  pigs  and  oxen 
roasted  whole,  with  stacks  of  yams,  Jidalo  and  yangona,  and  the  pre¬ 
sentation  of  the  road  tools  was  made  with  great  solemnity  and  public 
rejoicings.  They  were  distributed  to  the  districts  who  had  made 
the  roads,  and  thus  the  vice-regal  visit  to  Tholo  East  was  concluded. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


The  End  of  the  Way 


rHIMBA  is  the  Fijian  word  signifying  to  die,  and  when 
decease  took  place  the  soul  had  to  pass  through  the 
purgatory  of  the  Spirit’s  Way  until  it  reached  the  lofty 
precipices  of  Nakauvandra,  the  Sacred  Mount.  There  occurred 
the  thimbathimba ,  the  second  or  minor  death,  after  which,  freed 
from  all  earthly  dross,  the  spirit  flew  to  Burotu,  the  Isle  of  the 
Blest,  in  the  far  north-west.  Ere  that  state  of  beatitude  could  be 
attained  many  and  dire  were  the  trials  and  tribulations  encountered 
on  the  Way  which  was  called  the  Auleita.  It  passed  right  through 
Nandarivatu,  which  means  in  English  “  The  Dish  of  Stone.”  The 
name  is  taken  from  a  flat  slab  of  volcanic  rock  which  lies  embedded 
there,  with  its  surface  just  level  with  the  soil,  a  few  steps  from  the 
side  of  the  Way.  On  it  are  two  small  indentations  like  in  appearance 
to  the  wooden  platters  on  which  food  is  served,  which  are  called 
ndari.  They  belonged  to  a  mischievous  spirit,  the  Aaukei  or  Lord 
of  Nandarivatu,  who  awaited  those  painfully  travelling  to  the  next 
world.  As  they  drew  near  they  found  the  bracken  on  either  side 
of  the  path  drawn  across  it  and  twisted  together,  which  caused  them 
to  stray  and  turn  towards  the  place  of  the  dishes,  one  of  which 
contained  nice  ripe  bananas  and  the  other  inexpressible  nastiness. 
Then  their  irate  guardian  roared  forth  in  a  terrible  voice,  “  Are 
your  ears  pierced  ?  ”  Should  those  of  the  trembling  soul  be  so, 
he  was  told  to  refresh  himself  with  the  bananas  and  was  allowed  to 
pass  on  unhurt.  If  only  one  was  pierced  or  neither,  the  unfortunate 
was  compelled  to  eat  the  objectionable  contents  of  the  other  platter, 
was  savagely  beaten  with  a  club  and  driven  away.  When  Sir  George 
O’Brien,  who  was  our  Governor  from  1897-1902,  paid  his  first  visit 
to  Nandarivatu,  I  showed  him  the  rock  and  told  the  legend,  which 
he  said  was  very  disgusting.  It  is,  but  the  tales  of  primitive  people 
are  not  generally  acceptable  to  delicate  ears.  Presently  I  hope  to 
say  something  prettier  about  the  Auleita,  which  in  addition  to  being 

287 


288  The  End  of  the  Way 

the  road  to  Paradise  was  the  main  highway  to  the  west,  along  which 
I  often  had  to  travel  in  the  ordinary  course  of  duty. 

I  never  could  find  out  whether  any  religious  idea  was  associated 
with  the  piercing  of  ears.  As  far  as  I  could  ascertain  it  was  a  mere 
fashion.  Many  of  my  old  acquaintances  had  the  lobes  of  their  ears 
horribly  distended  by  carrying  in  them  small  joints  of  bamboos 
which  formed  their  tobacco  boxes,  and  in  addition  they  kept  pipes, 
clasp  knives  and  all  sorts  of  small  articles  there.  Although  most 
disfiguring,  it  was  to  them  a  matter  of  convenience.  Why  those 
who  did  not  conform  to  this  habit  were  ill-treated  can  only  be 
attributed  to  the  malice  and  vagaries  of  the  evil  spirits  who  tor¬ 
mented  poor  dead  souls  as  they  sought  the  way  to  rest  and  peace. 

Unhappily,  the  Resident  Commissioner  of  Tholo  West  had  to  go 
on  sick  leave  all  1895  and  1896,  during  which  time  I  acted  for  him 
in  addition  to  my  own  duty  in  Tholo  North.  The  distance  between 
Nandarivatu  and  Fort  Carnarvon,  the  western  station,  was  forty 
miles,  and  the  path  between  the  two  places  the  Tuleita.  It  was 
possible  to  use  ponies  on  it,  but  there  were  frequent  heart-breaking 
bits  where  one  had  to  dismount  and  lead  the  animals  up  and  down, 
and  so  I  generally  did  the  journey  on  foot  and  thus  became  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  legends  of  the  way.  I  used  to  walk  the  first 
day  to  old  Nandrau  in  a  deep  gorge  of  the  Singatoka  River,  part 
of  the  descent  to  which  was  down  a  sheer  precipice.  That  was  a 
stage  of  sixteen  miles,  and  the  next  day  the  remaining  twenty-four 
were  traversed. 

My  cicerone  and  guide  was  generally  Simon  or  Saimone  as  he  was 
there  called,  the  Chief  Constable  of  Nandrau.  He  was  a  splendid 
companion,  steeped  in  the  lore  of  countryside,  and  gifted  with  a 
never-failing  flow  of  pleasant  conversation.  At  the  outset  of  our 
journeys  he  watched  for  the  omens  as  to  whether  they  would  be 
propitious  or  not.  The  most  common  was  furnished  by  a  pretty 
little  bird,  the  Tikivili,  so  named  onomatopceically  from  its  sharp 
cry.  Heard  on  the  right  it  was  good  and  meant  a  successful  journey 
with  right  royal  feeds  at  the  various  calling-places,  whilst  on  the  left 
it  foretold  disaster.  Saimone  assured  me  that  in  the  olden  times, 
if  the  latter  occurred,  parties  on  the  war-trail  at  once  abandoned 
their  quest  and  returned  home.  Another  good  portent  was  to  meet 
with  a  tiger  moth,  the  Kumukumure ,  in  which  are  embodied 
the  spirits  of  departed  ancestors.  Should  the  insect  light  upon  one 
the  right  thing  to  do  is  to  pick  it  up,  kiss  and  return  it  gently  to  the  air. 
I  heard,  too,  that  when  this  moth  dies  it  turns  into  the  Gingy ,  the 
little  red-breasted  robin  of  Fiji.  Many  yarns  were  spun  as  we  walked 


A  Typical  Fishing  Canoe. 

The  halliards  are  passed  through  the  crutch  at  the  masthead.  See  what  happened  to  that 
mystic  craft,  the  Rong-o-Voka,  page  qo. 


The  Flagship  of  the  Tcrtle  Fleet. 


The  Tunindau.  or  Head  Fisherman's  canoe.  He  was  responsible  that  each  canoe  should  make 
a  catch  of  ten  turtles,  or  substitute  any  deficiency  with  human  bodies  for  the  larder  oi  his 

suzerain  the  Ratu. 


The  End  of  the  Way  289 

along,  but  from  sheer  fatigue  I  neglected  to  note  them  down  at  the 
time  and  so  they  were  forgotten. 

Four  or  five  miles  from  Nandarivatu,  on  the  road  to  Fort  Car¬ 
narvon,  is  a  small  plateau  of  barren  red  earth  upon  which  nothing 
will  grow,  which  is  studded  all  over  with  little  mounds  like  childrens’ 
graves.  They  are  said  to  be  formed  by  those  forlorn  babes  who  die 
before  their  parents.  Here  they  stop  and  play  until  their  mothers 
come  along  who  then  take  their  hands  and  lead  them  along  the  Way 
to  the  next  world. 

A  little  further  west  is  a  small  stream,  the  Water  of  Twins,  which 
has  to  do  with  the  prosaic  affairs  of  everyday  life.  Thither  go  to 
drink  those  not  blessed  with  posterity,  and  for  their  faith  get  rewarded 
with  a  double  event.  Still  proceeding  westward  a  long  and  narrow 
ridge  is  reached,  a  veritable  razor-back,  which  divides  the  Singatoka 
and  Mba  Rivers.  A  long  dry  stretch  of  this  intervenes  before 
a  beautiful  little  cool  spring  is  encountered.  There  the  tired 
souls  on  the  weary  Way  to  the  Holy  Mount  stop  and  slake  their 
thirst,  and  when  people  on  beds  of  sickness,  parched  by  fever, 
continually  demand  drink  the  bystanders  shake  their  head  and  say, 
“  This  is  the  desire  for  the  waters  of  the  Tuleita  and  soon  will  our 
friend  quench  it  there.”  Not  far  from  it  is  Numbutautau,  the 
haunt  of  Tuitharatharasala,  the  Sweeper  of  the  Way,  whose  treatment 
of  errant  damsels  has  already  been  told.  Every  inch  of  the  way  is 
marked  by  some  legendary  spot,  which  would  require  a  book  to 
itself  were  all  to  be  recorded. 

Although  we  lived  at  Nandarivatu  right  at  the  very  haunt  of  the 
Lord  of  the  Stone  Dish,  we  were  untroubled  by  the  shades  on  their 
way  to  the  next  world.  It  was  otherwise  at  Fort  Carnarvon,  where 
the  ghost  of  a  man  who  had  been  hanged  disturbed  the  nocturnal 
peace  of  the  garrison.  At  midnight  he  was  supposed  to  wander 
round  the  camp,  and  at  times  terrified  the  sentinel  at  the  main 
guard  who  would  rouse  his  comrades  by  the  discharge  of  his  rifle 
when  the  big  lali  or  native  war  drum  would  boom  forth  and  wake 
the  inhabitants  from  sleep.  I  never  heard  his  footsteps  myself, 
although  he  was  supposed  to  pass  close  to  the  Commandant’s  quar¬ 
ters,  which  at  night  were  generally  left  to  my  sole  use.  Fortunately 
I  am  not  psychic,  and  although  I  often  had  to  sleep  in  solitary  places 
supposed  to  be  haunted  I  was  never  troubled  by  ghostly  visitants. 
It  was  different  with  some  of  my  colleagues,  who  were  disturbed  by 
undefinable  feelings  and  noises  for  w'hich  they  could  not  account. 

On  25th  August,  1892,  the  Government  despatch  boat,  the 
Clyde,  landed  me,  Native  Officer  Naikasau  and  twenty-five  rank  and 

T 


290  The  End  of  the  Way 

file  of  the  Armed  Native  Constabulary  at  Tavua,  from  whence  we 
marched  to  Nandarivatu  and  took  possession  of  the  camp  there, 
which  consisted  of  about  six  grass  houses  which  Mbuli  Tavua  and 
his  people  had  erected  for  us  on  the  spot  I  had  pegged  out  on  the 
previous  24th  May.  Our  camp  was  just  a  small  place  on  the  broad 
lands  of  the  Ndala  clan,  which  according  to  tradition  will  hold  their 
demesne  as  long  as  they  have  an  albino  among  their  number.  They 
had  had  one  always,  and  when  we  arrived  he  was  represented  by  one 
Samuela  (Samuel).  Near  the  centre  of  their  possessions  was  a  pool, 
said  to  be  unfathomable,  probably  a  small  extinct  crater.  It  was 
called  the  Tornbu  ni  Rea,  which  being  interpreted  means  the  Pool 
of  the  Albino.  At  one  side  of  it  grew  a  white  barked  vung-a  or 
myrtle,  which  was  said  also  to  be  an  albino,  supposed  to  be  significant 
of  the  hereditary  peculiarity  of  the  Ndala. 

The  possessions  of  these  people,  together  with  their  small  affiliated 
tribe  of  Wana,  those  who  told  me  that  they  had  held  the  summit  of 
Mount  Victoria  since  the  Creation,  amounted  to  about  thirty 
thousand  acres,  and  the  sole  survivors  of  the  united  clan  did  not 
exceed  thirty  men,  women  and  children  all  told,  not  one  of  whom 
resided  on  the  family  property.  They  were  dispersed,  some  in  the 
coast  villages  of  Tavua  and  a  few,  principally  those  of  Wana,  in  the 
hamlets  of  Nandrau,  close  by  their  old  family  mountain.  Although 
the  Deed  of  Cession  which  established  the  British  Sovereignty 
provided  that  all  native  lands  thereby  became  vested  in  the  Crown 
no  steps  were  ever  taken  to  carry  this  measure  into  effect,  and  they 
remained  in  the  possession  of  their  hereditary  owners.  Except  in  a 
few  isolated  instances  there  is  no  individual  proprietorship  in  land 
in  Fiji,  which  is  held  by  the  unit  of  the  family  and  the  tribe.  To 
all  intents  and  purposes  Ndala  was  what  the  natives  call  a  vanua  lala, 
an  empty  land,  being  put  to  no  use  whatever  by  those  who  claimed 
to  be  the  owners.  When  I  was  sent  to  Nandarivatu,  Sir  John 
Thurston  thought  that  too  much  latitude  had  been  given  in  recognis¬ 
ing  the  titles  to  these  waste  lands  and  that  they  should  be  regarded 
as  Crown  property.  However,  we  subsequently  came  to  the  conclu¬ 
sion  that  we  had  better  not  go  back  upon  the  custom  which  had 
become  part  of  the  native  policy,  which  was  in  all  cases  to  recognise 
the  right  of  the  Fijian  proprietors  to  the  usufruct  of  their  estates 
as  long  as  the  clan  was  in  existence,  with  the  reservation  that  the 
Crown  was  the  ultimus  haeres.  Land  could  not  be  sold  without  the 
permission  of  the  Government,  but  the  leasing  of  it  was  encouraged. 
This  was  done  to  guard  the  people  against  their  own  improvidence, 
as  prior  to  annexation  they  had  alienated  much  of  their  property, 


The  End  of  the  Way  291 

and  in  time  probably  would  have  dissipated  it  all,  and  instead,  to 
provide  that  a  small  steady  income  should  be  derived  from  their 
properties.  At  the  same  time  that  these  privileges  were  conferred 
it  was  acknowledged  by  the  natives  that  they  held  their  lands  by  the 
grace  of  the  British  Sovereign,  to  whom  they  had  indeed  ceded  their 
domains,  and  in  acknowledgment  yearly  they  did  homage  and  fealty 
by  the  presentation  of  the  first-fruits  of  their  yams,  the  staple  crop. 
All  the  tribes  within  my  jurisdiction  annually  performed  this  cere¬ 
mony  to  me  as  the  King’s  representative  the  Kai  Ndala ,  presenting 
their  first-fruits  with  a  tambua  and  a  turtle,  the  Royal  fish.  They 
were  then  resident  in  the  maritime  villages  of  Tavua,  where  the  King 
of  the  Fishes  was  the  proper  offering  of  the  paramount  chief,  as  the 
dish  to  be  eaten  with  the  yams. 

We  arranged  the  settlement  at  Nandarivatu  by  paying  an  annual 
quit  rent  to  the  Ndala  people  as  long  as  they  existed,  the  property 
passing  to  the  Crown  as  the  ultimate  heir  upon  the  demise  of  the  tribe. 
This  created  a  rather  curious  position,  the  Government  paying 
through  me  twice  a  year  the  rent  to  owners  who  in  turn  annually 
did  homage  and  fealty  to  the  King’s  representative  in  acknowledg¬ 
ment  that  they  held  their  domains  from  him. 

The  natives  of  Tholo  North  owned  large  areas  of  unused  land 
which  they  leased  both  to  whites  and  Indians,  and  so  twice  in  each 
year  had  a  very  happy  rent  audit.  It  opened  up  the  country  and 
provided  the  lucky  owners  with  pocket  money,  whilst  the  land 
retained  for  their  own  use  furnished  an  ample  supply  of  food  and 
a  pleasant  occupation  in  its  cultivation.  The  non-enforcement  of 
the  Deed  of  Cession  as  regards  the  assumption  of  the  land  by  the 
Crown  has  been  made  the  grounds  of  much  cavilling  by  some  of  the 
Colonists,  who  maintain  that  it  has  retarded  settlement  and  develop¬ 
ment  through  the  difficulties  in  arranging  leases  with  the  native 
owners.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  be  urged  that  it  has  kept  the 
Fijians  loyal  and  contented,  and  barring  the  troubles  which  ensued 
before  the  final  relinquishment  of  cannibalism,  which  caused  the 
Little  War  in  1876,  there  has  then  been  no  fighting.  Before  the 
close  of  this  chapter  I  hope  to  set  forth  the  devoted  services  of  the 
natives  during  the  Great  War,  and  their  recent  assistance  in  the 
grave  Indian  disturbances  caused  by  Gandhi’s  unscrupulous  propa¬ 
ganda. 

Almost  immediately  upon  our  arrival  at  Nandarivatu  we  began 
to  find  out  that  the  ordinary  native  house  which  had  been  put  up 
for  us  by  the  Tavua  people  was  quite  unsuited  to  the  climate  of  the 
place,  situated  as  it  was  at  the  northern  end  of  the  long  valley,  whose 


292  The  End  of  the  Way 

southern  extremity  was  in  the  Queen’s  Pass  eleven  miles  away  on  the 
slopes  of  Mount  Victoria.  We  were  at  the  mouth  of  a  long  funnel 
through  which  the  sea  and  land  breezes  howled,  strongest  at  night, 
which  is  contrary  to  the  “  Song  of  the  Trade  Wind  ”  : 

“  I’m  strongest  at  noon,  yet  under  the  moon 
1  stiffen  the  bunt  of  the  sail.” 

But  then  our  weather  was  locally  brewed  in  the  lofty  mountains  at 
our  back  culminating  at  Tomanivei.  The  temperature  after  dark 
was  usually  in  the  low  fifties  and  the  average  mean,  day  and  night, 
was  sixty-seven  and  a  half.  Our  occupation  of  the  new  post  was 
quite  an  event  in  local  history  and  was,  of  course,  celebrated  in  a 
song,  the  opening  line  of  which  was : 

“ Nandarivatu  sa  koro  liliua ,” 

which  merely  means  it  was  a  cold  place.  Part  of  the  Governor’s 
plan  in  establishing  it  was  to  provide  a  cool  hill  station  to  which 
Europeans  could  resort  in  the  hot  season,  as  well  as  an  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  power  in  that  remote  part  of  Viti  Levu.  He  quite 
recognised  that  something  more  substantial  than  the  ordinary 
native  structures  would  be  required,  and  to  that  end  a  draft  of  twenty 
youths  from  the  Native  Technical  School  at  Yanawai  on  Vanua 
Levu  was  sent  over  to  us  immediately  after  our  arrival.  They  had 
been  taught  sawing  and  carpentering,  and  they  set  to  work  felling 
the  kauri  pines  which  grew  in  abundance  all  around  our  camp,  from 
which  they  procured  the  planking  required  in  the  erection  of  wooden 
dwellings  and  also  the  shingles  for  roofing. 

It  will  already  have  been  gleaned  that  there  has  been  an  hereditary 
clan  of  carpenters  from  time  immemorial,  and  generally  the  race 
has  an  aptitude  for  mechanics.  As  soon  as  I  had  got  the  roads  into 
order  a  bit,  wheeled  transport  in  the  shape  of  bullock  drays  was 
started,  and  when  they  broke  down  my  handy  men  effected  the 
repairs  and  made  the  yokes,  and  on  one  occasion  even  made  a  wheel. 
I  was  always  a  student  of  Indian  fife  and  read  of  the  use  of  pack- 
bullocks  in  field  transport,  and  speedily  we  employed  them  too. 
At  first  Australian  pack-saddles  were  tried,  but  were  found  heavy 
and  apt  to  give  the  animals  sore  backs,  and  we  soon  invented  a  field 
equipment  of  our  own.  Owing  to  the  extent  of  my  districts,  as 
not  only  was  I  Commissioner  of  Tholo  North,  but  also  Stipendiary 
Magistrate  for  the  large  Province  of  Ra,  my  life  was  rather  nomadic. 
My  office  was  the  roadside,  and  whenever  I  had  a  few  hours’  halt  I 


The  End  of  the  Way  293 

tried  to  keep  even  with  my  files  and  work  off  my  papers.  An  old 
white  bullock  called  Jack  carried  my  official  paraphernalia.  When 
I  acquired  him  and  a  dray  it  was  still  the  winter  of  our  poverty  and 
there  was  very  little  money  available,  but  up  the  Ra  coast  was  a 
derelict  sugar  mill,  where  I  managed  to  buy  a  couple  of  bullock 
carts  for  £i  ios.  apiece.  I  was  very  proud  of  my  transport  system, 
and  up  to  the  time  of  my  retirement  was  the  only  officer  who 
employed  beasts  of  burden  and  wheeled  vehicles  for  land  carriage. 

When  my  senior  native  officer,  Lieutenant  Naikasau,  died  in  1898, 
he  was  succeeded  by  Ratu  Veli,  the  junior  subaltern,  and  until  he 
left  eleven  years  afterwards  he  was  my  right-hand  man.  He  learned 
to  work  with  a  road  tracer,  and  I  could  with  all  confidence  send 
him  to  peg  out  new  ways  which  I  always  found  properly  graded. 
He  picked  up  blacksmithing,  and  all  our  little  village  water  supplies 
were  laid  by  him.  Sir  George  O’Brien  considered  that  many  of  the 
ailments  of  Fijian  fife  were  due  to  the  use  of  impure  water,  and  he 
would  always  find  money  with  which  to  bring  supplies  from  fresh 
springs  by  means  of  pipes.  In  our  rough  mountain  transit  they 
sometimes  got  damaged,  and  now  and  then  they  were  carried  away 
by  floods.  Then  the  screws  by  which  they  were  joined  together 
got  out  of  order  and  had  to  be  re-threaded  by  tools  called  stocks 
and  dies.  I  never  had  any  mechanical  aptitude,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing  was  a  mystery  to  me.  However,  Ratu  Veli  mastered  all 
those  little  arts,  and  could  use  the  different  instruments  required 
for  laying  and  maintaining  water  supplies.  Not  only  did  he  do  that 
but  he  also  built  the  cement  reservoirs  and  knew  how  to  mix  the 
exact  proportions  of  cement,  sand  and  stone  necessary  for  them. 
Shortly  after  Sir  George  O’Brien  arrived  it  was  decided  to  construct 
a  telephone  line  between  Suva  and  Mba,  linking  up  various  other 
spots  en  route,  and  it  entailed  a  traverse  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles.  I  was  called  upon  to  do  that  part  which  went  through 
Tholo  North  and  East,  a  distance  of  fifty-two  miles,  and  after  its 
completion  we  had  to  keep  it  in  order.  As  it  passed  principally 
through  heavy  forest  land  trees  were  constantly  crashing  across  the 
line  and  smashing  the  wires.  Veli  was  quite  equal  to  the  emergency 
and  taught  the  linemen  in  charge  of  the  various  sections  how  to 
use  soldering  irons  and  how  to  mend  the  breaks.  The  work  was 
done  only  in  a  rough  and  ready  manner,  but  we  kept  the  line 
going. 

Veli  was  of  a  gay  and  joyous  nature,  always  ready  to  laugh  and 
sing,  and  intensely  fond  of  music,  and  ready  to  tackle  any  job  that 
he  was  called  upon  to  do.  An  account  of  his  marriage,  according 


294  The  End  of  the  Way 

to  the  custom  of  war,  as  his  comrades  styled  it,  has  already  been 
given,  and  a  hint  that  prior  to  that  my  friend  was  rather  prone  to 
amatory  adventures.  Just  after  we  pitched  our  camp  at  Nandarivatu 
there  was  a  terrible  scandal  which  I  have  always  marked  in  my  mind 
as  the  Great  Elopement.  Our  uniforms  were  not  without  effect, 
and  the  ladies  round  about  doted  on  the  military.  Every  six  weeks 
I  had  to  ride  to  Rakiraki,  forty  miles  away  up  the  Ra  coast,  where 
there  was  a  sugar  mill,  at  which  a  number  of  Indian  coolies  were 
employed.  Their  presence  and  other  causes  rendered  the  periodical 
holding  of  Courts  necessary.  Horse-flesh  was  scarce  with  me  in 
those  days  and  I  usually  rode  all  alone  there  and  back,  which  was  a 
mistake,  as  on  several  occasions  I  met  with  accidents  such  as  my 
pony  falling  with  me  in  bad  parts.  Afterwards,  when  my  little  stud 
grew,  as,  among  other  things,  we  bred  ponies  and  cattle  at  Nandari¬ 
vatu,  I  used  to  take  an  orderly  or  two  with  me.  That  made  the 
journey  much  more  cheerful  and  easy,  as  animals  in  company 
always  go  better.  It  added  to  my  dignity  too,  and  enhanced  the 
respect  given  by  the  natives.  We  were  too  apt  in  the  old  impe¬ 
cunious  days  to  disregard  native  opinion  which  attaches  great 
importance  to  a  little  outward  show  and  pomp. 

I  was  returning  one  afternoon  from  Rakiraki  and  had  reached  the 
outskirts  of  Tavua  from  whence  the  road  turned  inland  to  Nandari¬ 
vatu.  There  I  was  met  by  the  Chief  Constable  of  the  place  who 
intimated  that  he  had  something  to  report.  “  Sir,”  said  he,  “  we 
think  that  all  the  girls  of  Korovou  have  bolted  up  to  Nandarivatu. 
For  some  time  they  have  been  flirting  outrageously  with  the  soldiers, 
so  the  day  before  yesterday  we  had  them  up  before  the  village 
council  where  we  admonished  them,  and  then  we  cut  off  all  their 
tombe,  and  yesterday  they  disappeared  and  did  not  come  home  to 
sleep,  and  we  think  that  they  have  fled  to  Nandarivatu.”  Tombe 
are  the  love-locks  worn  by  young  girls  which  are  cut  off  at  marriage, 
and  their  absence  denotes  the  matronly  state. 

I  rode  on  to  Waikumbukumbu,  the  village  at  the  foot  of  the 
Nandarivatu  escarpment  where  the  road  rises  two  thousand  feet  in 
the  last  five  miles,  necessitating  many  zigzags,  and  dusk  fell  upon 
my  weary  pony  and  myself  ere  we  traversed  the  last  laps.  Just 
before  we  reached  the  top  I  became  aware  of  faint  whistles  in  the 
forest  which  surrounded  the  camp.  I  dismounted  at  the  guard- 
room  door,  where  I  was  greeted  by  the  European  sergeant-major, 
who  reported  all  well.  He  was  not  a  Fijian  scholar  and  was  evidently 
unaware  of  anything  untoward  having  occurred.  I  drew  him  on  one 
side  and  told  him  of  what  the  Chief  Constable  of  Tavua  had 


The  End  of  the  Way  295 

reported  and  signified  my  intention  of  sounding  the  general  alarm  at 
midnight,  and  of  having  the  roll  called  then,  and  that  in  the  mean¬ 
time  he  was  to  hold  his  peace.  We  could  not  then  afford  the  luxury 
of  maintaining  a  full  guard  as  we  were  all  so  busy  trying  to  get  the 
camp  properly  built,  and  all  we  had  was  an  orderly  who  slept  in  the 
guard  house  and  sounded  the  hours  from  6  a.m.  till  io  p.m.  on  the 
big  lali  or  war  drum  as  was  the  custom  on  the  Fijian  Government 
stations.  At  midnight  I  roused  the  orderly  out,  told  him  to  get  a 
couple  of  rifles  from  the  rack  and  load  them  with  blank  cartridge. 
Then  he  beat  the  highest  point  of  war  on  the  lali  and  he  and  I  fired 
the  rifles  off.  Like  lightning  some  seven  men,  mostly  good  steady 
boys  from  Tholo  East  were  at  my  side.  I  ordered  these  to  stand  to 
their  arms  and  fall  in.  Then  from  the  surrounding  bush  faint 
noises  began  to  be  heard,  and  every  now  and  then  a  frightened  man 
made  his  way  into  camp  and  was  promptly  made  a  prisoner. 

My  next  problem  was  how  to  deal  with  the  matter.  I  knew 
that  if  my  men  were  impleaded  in  the  native  courts  they  would  all 
be  surely  sent  to  jail,  and  my  detachment  would  be  ruined.  So  I 
assembled  a  court-martail  at  once  and  fined  Veli,  who  was  then  a 
sergeant,  a  pound,  and  the  rest  a  month’s  pay  each,  which  was  seven 
shillings.  As  I  anticipated,  the  Tavua  people  duly  lodged  a  com¬ 
plaint  with  the  Native  Department,  the  head  of  which  wrote  a 
furious  minute  to  the  Governor  demanding  our  heads.  His  Excel¬ 
lency  was  very  angry  too,  and  wrote  to  me  that  he  contemplated 
ordering  the  offenders  to  be  returned  to  headquarters  at  Suva  and 
furnishing  Nandarivatu  with  a  new  draft.  I  pleaded  earnestly  for 
my  men,  to  whom  I  was  sincerely  attached,  especially  Veli,  and 
saved  them  at  the  cost  of  a  snubbing,  being  told  that  such  a  strong 
personal  attachment  to  those  under  my  command  was  subversive 
of  discipline.  However,  I  have  never  regretted  my  action  then  as 
it  kept  Veli  with  me  until  an  elderly  relative  of  his  died  who  was 
Roko  Tui  Mathuata  or  native  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  Mathuata 
Province,  one  of  the  most  important  districts  of  Vanua  Levu.  When 
some  of  us  went  to  King  Edward’s  coronation  in  1902  he  went  with 
me,  and  afterwards  remained  at  Nandarivatu  till  1909.  In  those 
days  he  was  a  slim  young  officer,  but  now  under  the  effects  of  the 
loaves  and  fishes  of  his  native  province  he  begins  to  show  signs  of 
corpulence.  He  belongs  to  the  chief  family  of  Mathuata  and  is  of 
the  highest  rank  there,  and  it  is  a  tribute  to  his  steadfastness  that  he 
worked  so  long  and  hard  at  Nandarivatu,  and  although  many  of  our 
own  young  countrymen  were  sent  there  to  gain  an  insight  into 
native  life  and  country  administrative  routine  the  actual  practical 


296  The  End  of  the  Way 

work  of  building  the  station  and  keeping  it  going  was  effected  by 
my  Fijian  assistants. 

Gradually  the  station  grew  in  size  and  importance  and,  after  the 
relinquishment  of  Fort  Carnarvon  as  an  armed  post  in  1898,  part 
of  the  garrison  was  transferred  to  Nandarivatu.  Many  young 
officers  were  sent  there  for  training.  Most  of  them  have  since  distin- 
guised  themselves  in  the  Great  War,  and  now  hold  important 
positions  in  the  Colonial  service.  Oliver  Griffiths,  the  son  of  one  of 
my  earliest  assistants,  was  born  at  Nandarivatu  and  was  present  at 
Zeebrugge.  R.  R.  Kane  got  the  M.C.  and  bar  as  a  Captain  with 
the  Irish  Rifles,  and  is  now  one  of  the  Commissioners  in  the  Solomon 
Islands.  Cyril  Francis  immediately  on  the  outbreak  of  the  War 
received  a  commission  as  Captain  in  the  East  Kents,  and  afterwards 
served  in  the  King’s  African  Rifles  in  the  campaign  against  von 
Lettow-Vorbeck.  He  was  a  splendid  drill,  and  had  passed  through 
the  School  of  Musketry  at  Hythe  and  of  Military  Instruction  at 
Chelsea,  and  had  the  gift  of  training  soldiers.  He  also  studied  law 
during  his  leaves,  was  duly  called  to  the  Bar  and  is  now  Attorney- 
General  of  British  Honduras,  where  he  has  acted  as  Chief  Justice 
also.  In  the  Crown  Colony  service  one  fills  many  posts  and  in  turn 
are  administrators,  lawyers,  and  soldiers,  and  work  much  harder  than 
the  general  public  knows.  Herbert  Henniker-Heaton,  who  was  also 
at  Nandarivatu,  is  now  Colonial  Secretary  of  the  Gambier,  and 
Kenneth  Allardyce,  who  succeeded  me  in  Tholo  North,  afterwards 
became  Commisioner  of  Native  Affairs  in  Fiji,  and  subsequently 
commanded  the  Fijian  Labour  Contingent  in  France  and  in  Italy. 
James  Stuart  is  now  a  first-grade  Commissioner  in  Fiji,  and  spent 
his  last  leave  in  helping  to  look  after  our  little  native  force  in  France 
and  Italy  during  the  Great  War. 

I  must  not  forget  to  mention  the  Honourable  W.  E.  Russell, 
who  acted  for  me  on  several  occasions  when  I  was  on  leave,  and  was 
my  assistant  in  Tholo  East.  He  carried  on  my  policy  very  loyally 
and  is  now,  I  am  glad  to  say,  about  top  of  the  list  of  the  District 
Commissioners,  and  a  member  of  the  Legislative  Council  of  Fiji. 

Another  of  my  eleves  was  Ratu  Lala  Sukuna,  the  eldest  son  of  the 
late  Ratu  Joni  Mandraiwini,  who  was  Roko  or  Native  Lieutenant- 
Governor  of  the  province  of  Ra,  of  which  I  was  the  judicial  officer. 
This  young  chief,  Sukuna,  before  he  went  to  school  in  New  Zealand, 
lived  with  me  at  Nandarivatu.  Subsequently  he  came  home  and 
entered  at  Wadham  College,  Oxford,  where  he  was  when  the  War 
broke  out.  He  immediately  tried  to  join  up,  but  owing  to  red-tape 
and  foolish  colour  regulation  was  rejected  for  service  in  our  armies. 


The  End  of  the  Way  297 

He  was  determined,  however,  not  to  miss  the  Great  Adventure, 
and  went  to  France  and  entered  the  Foreign  Legion,  in  which  he 
distinguished  himself  and  was  severely  wounded  in  the  great  French 
push  in  Champagne  in  1915.  As  he  was  a  chief  of  the  highest  rank 
the  authorities  in  Fiji  became  very  anxious  for  his  return,  as  the 
service  there  was  greatly  depleted  by  the  number  of  those  who 
went  home  to  fight.  The  small  colony  of  Fiji  had,  all  told,  a  European 
population,  men,  women  and  children,  of  only  some  five  thousand, 
from  which  nearly  eight  hundred  of  the  men  joined  up,  and  the 
Government  bureaux  were  mostly  carried  on  by  girls  and  old  men. 
The  Colonial  Office  therefore  asked  the  French  Government  to 
grant  Sukuna’s  discharge,  and  he  was  sent  back  to  Fiji.  Soon  after 
he  got  home  the  Labour  Corps  for  service  in  France  was  being 
organised,  and  he  joined  as  a  N.C.O.  and  went  to  Europe  with  it. 
After  the  Peace,  Sukuna  resumed  his  course  at  Oxford,  where  he 
took  his  B.A.  and  LL.B.  and  wras  called  to  the  Bar.  Last  year  he 
returned  to  Fiji  and  once  more  took  up  his  duty  in  the  Colonial 
Civil  Service. 

The  Governors  and  Acting  Governors  with  their  wives  and  families, 
from  the  time  of  Sir  John  Thurston  to  the  time  of  Sir  Everard 
im  Thurn,  who  was  the  last  chief  under  whom  I  served,  spent  the 
hot  seasons  at  Nandarivatu.  Sir  Henry  Jackson  was  an  exception 
to  this,  but  he  was  barely  two  years  with  us  before  he  went  on  pro¬ 
motion  to  Trinidad.  The  Government  House  parties  used  to  land 
at  Tavua,  and  from  thence  to  Nandarivatu,  fourteen  miles ;  their 
transport  was  my  job.  With  railroads  or  motors  that  would  be  an 
easy  task,  but  with  only  native  carriers,  ponies,  bullocks  and  a  rough 
mountain  track  it  was  a  sufficiently  arduous  undertaking.  At  first 
it  was  almost  all  done  by  Fijian  porters,  but  gradually  as  I  got  my 
animal  and  wheeled  transport  into  order  they  took  the  place  of 
human  labour.  I  always  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  I  had  got  success¬ 
fully  through  what  I  called  my  trooping  season.  The  most  difficult 
of  my  charges  was  Sir  George  O’Brien  and  his  sister.  They  insisted 
upon  travelling  at  night,  and  one  of  the  preliminary  precautions 
was  to  get  reed  torches  cut  and  strewed  all  along  the  route,  by 
which  we  lighted  the  way  on  dark  nights.  Neither  the  Governor 
nor  Miss  O’Brien  and  her  maid  would  ride,  and  they  had  to  be 
conveyed  in  rickshaws.  The  Fijian  rickshaw-men  like  to  pretend 
they  are  horses  and  prance  about  and  decorate  themselves  and  their 
little  carriages  with  ferns  and  vines  and  all  sorts  of  greenery.  With 
the  O’Briens  nothing  of  that  sort  of  thing  was  permitted,  and  I  was 
not  allowed  to  approach  them  on  horseback.  At  first  I  used  to  ride 


t  2 


298  The  End  of  the  Way 

up  alongside  and  ask  Miss  O’Brien  if  she  were  comfortable,  but  the 
maid  warned  me  not  to  do  so  as  her  mistress  was  nervous  about 
animals.  I  usually  walked  as  we  were  not  allowed  to  go  more  than 
two  miles  an  hour.  It  was  a  long,  weary  business,  and  as  a  rule  it 
took  twelve  hours  from  the  time  we  left  the  steamer’s  side  until  we 
reached  Nandarivatu.  I  used  to  regard  Miss  O’Brien  as  a  real  princess, 
as  she  generally  found  the  pea  under  the  seventh  mattress  and  the 
rose  leaves  of  her  existence  crumpled. 

All  the  others  were  always  very  kind  and  considerate  and  treated 
the  whole  affair  as  a  huge  picnic.  Two  of  the  easiest  to  get  on  with 
were  Sir  Everard  and  Lady  im  Thurn.  They  both  were  good 
sportsmen,  if  I  may  so  speak  of  a  lady,  and  were  able  to  ride.  They 
loved  the  cool  bracing  air  of  Nandarivatu,  and  always  brought  up 
large  house  parties,  not  only  in  the  hot  season,  but  at  all  times  of  the 
year.  Often,  too,  instead  of  returning  by  water  they  hazarded  the 
great  adventure  of  going  back  to  Suva  overland,  which  entailed  a 
journey  of  one  hundred  and  ten  miles,  forty-four  of  which  were  by 
land,  on  our  sure-footed  hill  ponies  to  Vatuvula  on  the  Wainimala, 
thence  by  canoe  to  Viria,  another  twenty-eight  miles,  and  the  rest  by 
steamer.  There  never  was  any  difficulty  or  grumbling  with  them, 
and  they  did  a  great  deal  for  Nandarivatu  in  the  way  of  adding  to 
the  buildings,  much  of  which  was  done  at  His  Excellency’s  sole 
expense,  and  I  cannot  speak  too  highly  of  their  invariable  kindness  to 
myself  and  my  wife.  Not  only  were  they  good  to  us  at  Nandarivatu, 
but  whenever  we  visited  Suva  we  were  their  guests  at  Government 
House. 

The  year  before  I  left  Fiji  for  good,  in  1909,  Sir  Everard  sent 
Admiral  Sir  Richard  Poore,  Commander-in-Chief  on  the  Australian 
station,  who  was  visiting  Fiji  in  H.M.S.  Powerful,  round  to  Tavua 
in  the  Ranandi,  the  Government  yacht.  With  him  was  his  Flag- 
Captain  Prowse  and  his  Flag-Lieutenant  Fisher,  and  to  look  after 
them  came  our  Colonial  Secretary,  now  Sir  Eyre  Hutson  and 
Governor  of  British  Honduras,  and  Kenneth  Allardyce,  who  was 
acquainted  with  the  way  across  the  island.  I  rode  with  them  as  far 
as  Vatuvula,  and  we  had  a  most  pleasant  journey  in  memory  of  which 
the  Admiral  and  the  others  sent  me  from  Sydney  a  very  handsome 
silver  cigar  case  with  “  From  Tavua  to  Vatuvula  ”  on  it,  as  well  as 
the  date  and  their  initials.  In  a  little  less  than  seven  years  afterwards 
poor  Prowse  was  to  perish  in  command  of  the  Queen  Mary  at 
Jutland,  but  how  could  a  man  die  better  ! 

Although  this  book  is  principally  concerned  with  the  Fijian  hill 
people  it  may  not  be  altogether  out  of  place,  perhaps,  to  say  a  few 


The  End  of  the  Way  299 

words  about  the  Indian  immigrants,  who  at  one  time  bade  fair  to 
swamp  the  native  population,  and  who  have  made  themselves  felt 
even  in  the  remote  fastnesses  of  Viti  Levu.  A  census  of  the  Colony 
taken  in  1911  showed  the  number  of  Fijians  to  be  87,096  and  the 
Indians  40,286.  I  left  Fiji  in  May,  1910,  and  it  seemed  to  me  then 
that  our  settlers  from  Hindustan  were  the  happiest  of  people.  Upon 
arrival  they  worked  under  indenture  for  five  years,  after  which  they 
could  either  return  to  their  own  country  or  settle  in  Fiji,  and  the 
proof  of  their  contentment  was  that  ninety-nine  per  cent  of  them 
elected  to  remain,  and  most  of  these  leased  small  blocks  of  land  from 
the  Fijians  on  which  they  grew  rice,  dhall  and  other  food  stuffs  dear 
to  the  agricultural  classes  of  India  from  which  country  they  were 
principally  recruited.  They  also  kept  cows  and  goats,  and  an  acre 
of  good  land  would  ordinarily  support  a  coolie  family.  There  was 
no  such  thing  as  famine,  and  instead  of  the  continual  want  and 
poverty  of  the  land  of  their  birth,  the  mere  sensation  of  hunger  was 
pleasant,  as  the  means  of  satisfying  it  was  always  available.  The 
immigration  started  in  1879,  an<^  so>  when  I  left  in  1910,  we  had  had 
thirty  years’  experience  of  it,  and  statistics  show  how  the  Hindu 
population  had  grown  and  thrived. 

I  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  assisting  the  Indian  settlers  in 
getting  leases  of  native  lands,  many  of  which  I  pegged  out  myself. 
We  used  to  have  an  ordinance  which  permitted  of  the  magistrates 
marking  out  blocks  of  not  more  than  ten  acres,  on  account  of  the 
scarcity  of  duly  qualified  surveyors.  I  had  read  all  Meadows  Taylor’s 
books,  and  was  deeply  interested  in  Indian  rural  life.  The  new 
environment  affected  the  religious  observances  of  these  immigrants, 
and  tended  to  a  general  subversion  of  morals,  making  it  more  diffi¬ 
cult  to  keep  them  in  order.  They  ate  all  sorts  of  unlawful  things, 
and  did  many  things  which  were  wrong  according  to  their  own 
ideas  of  morality.  This  was  at  first,  before  any  of  their  own  holy 
men  appeared  upon  the  scene ;  afterwards  when  some  of  them  came 
along  they  insisted  upon  the  due  performance  of  worship  and 
ancient  custom,  and  then  matters  improved.  One  in  particular  in 
my  district  was  a  very  good  man,  under  whose  auspices  there  was 
much  less  Court  work.  I  tried  to  get  disputes  settled  as  far  as 
possible  by  their  own  fanchayets  or  local  councils,  and  by  the 
adoption  of  a  measure  of  Home  Rule  suitable  in  the  circumstances. 
The  majority  of  these  new  settlers  were  Hindus,  although  there  was 
a  fair  proportion  of  Mohammedans,  who  kept  their  festival  of  the 
Mohurrum  in  a  small  way  as  they  had  done  in  India.  But  there 
seemed  to  be  no  religious  animosity,  and  Hindu  sword-players  and 


3°°  The  End  of  the  Way 

jugglers  used  to  dance  and  take  a  place  in  the  processions  of  the  rival 
persuasion. 

These  new  little  communities  were  very  keen  on  education,  and 
sent  their  children  to  whatever  schools  were  available,  irrespective 
of  creed,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  here  was  a  splendid  opportunity 
for  the  inculcation  of  Christianity  to  which  most  of  the  educational 
establishments  belonged,  and  many  of  the  young  Indians  attended 
them.  The  new  country  and  life  in  a  British  Colony  had  its  effect 
in  broadening  their  outlook,  and  tended  to  a  greater  liberality  of 
ideas.  It  seemed,  too,  at  one  time  as  if  a  great  part  of  the  Western 
Pacific  stood  a  chance  of  becoming  Hinduised,  and  that  the  tide  that 
had  reached  Fiji  might  spread  to  the  other  islands  under  British 
rule.  But  owing  to  circumstances  to  be  presently  mentioned  the 
Indian  onrush  has  been  retarded.  In  thirty  years  the  Indians  have 
become  nearly  equal  to  half  of  the  total  Fijian  population,  which 
shows  a  tendency  to  decrease,  but  which  for  some  time  has  been  kept 
about  stationary  through  the  strenuous  care  of  the  Government. 
Throughout  the  South  Seas  the  indigenous  races  show  the  same 
inclination  to  decay,  and  it  seemed  to  me  when  I  left  that  part  of  the 
world  that  they  would  probably  become  Hinduised  through  the 
tide  that  was  then  flowing  into  Fiji,  from  whence  it  would  spread 
to  the  other  groups. 

In  my  efforts  to  get  these  little  Indian  communities  to  govern 
themselves  I  was  greatly  assisted  towards  the  end  of  my  stay  by  my 
chief  clerk  and  interpreter,  Mr.  B.  R.  Subawhal,  who  had  studied 
at  the  Lahore  University,  and  I  think  that  when  I  left,  the  Indian 
settlers  in  my  district  were  happy  and  contented.  The  last  time  I 
held  Court  at  Tavua  on  the  northern  sea  coast,  where  these  people 
were  principally  congregated,  they  sent  me  a  message  that  on  the 
day  before  my  final  departure  I  was  not  to  provide  my  own  tea,  as 
they  quaintly  put  it.  On  that  afternoon  the  whole  of  the  free 
Indian  settlers  came  to  the  Court  House  in  gala  dress  bringing  tea, 
biscuits,  fruit,  cigars,  ginger-beer,  sweet-meats  and  all  sorts  of 
things  which  they  presented  to  me,  together  with  a  plated  tea  and 
coffee  service,  and  a  silver  manicure  set  for  my  wife.  I  took  it  as  a 
very  great  tribute  of  their  affection  as  I  was  leaving  them  for  good, 
and  they  could  have  no  hope  of  any  favour  from  me  in  the  future. 

Subsequently  Indian  lawyers  and  agitators  arrived  and  stirred  up 
sedition  and  discontent.  By  their  machinations  a  Commission  was 
sent  down  from  India  to  inquire  as  to  the  condition  of  their  people 
in  Fiji.  It  was  composed,  I  believe,  mostly  of  the  class  who  are  now 
so  arrogantly  demanding  equal  status  throughout  the  Empire,  and 


The  End  of  the  Way  301 

they  reported  adversely  and  recommended  that  immigration  in  Fiji 
should  be  stopped.  It  was  a  most  unjust  decision,  as  nowhere  were 
Indians  more  fairly  treated.  After  that  some  of  Gandhi’s  adherents 
appeared  upon  the  scene  and  there  were  riots  and  strikes  which  were 
suppressed  mainly  by  the  loyalty  of  the  Fijians  who  everywhere 
volunteered  as  special  constables. 

In  February,  1921,  the  Indians  from  Nandronga  in  the  west  as 
far  as  my  old  district  in  the  north  went  on  a  lightning  strike — the 
hands  in  the  fields,  the  cattle  keepers,  the  workers  in  the  sugar  mills, 
and  the  domestic  servants.  Ladies  were  deserted  by  their  ayahs,  and 
the  children  were  deprived  of  milk  through  the  abandonment  of 
their  charges  by  the  dairymen.  At  Mba,  a  large  and  flourishing 
place  where  there  is  a  large  central  sugar  factory,  operations  were 
completely  paralysed.  The  planters  in  their  perplexity  went  to  the 
District  Commissioner.  He  with  a  happy  flash  of  genius  called  in 
the  local  Fijian  chiefs  to  aid  him  by  their  advice.  They  at  once  took 
the  bull  by  the  horns  and  called  upon  their  people  to  volunteer  to 
come  to  the  rescue  of  their  white  brethren.  They  issued  a  manifesto 
that  they  understood  that  Britain  always  stood  by  those  in  trouble, 
and  now  was  the  time  to  show  that  they  themselves  were  true  Britons 
and  members  of  the  Empire.  The  result  was  that  the  able-bodied 
Fijians  took  the  places  of  the  strikers  in  the  fields  and  mills,  and 
milked  the  cows  whilst  their  womenfolk  turned  to  and  helped  their 
white  sisters  as  nurses  and  house  servants.  It  was  a  splendid  action 
on  their  part,  as  the  Mba  people  are  a  wealthy  community,  deriving 
a  large  income  from  rents  of  their  fertile  lands,  and  as  a  rule  do  not 
do  much  in  the  way  of  work.  Their  timely  aid  broke  the  strike  and 
caused  the  Indians  to  resume  work. 

There  is  hope  that  the  latter  are  beginning  to  see  their  folly. 
Some  twelve  hundred  malcontents  who  clamoured  to  be  sent  back 
to  India  have  speedily  discovered  that  they  were  faced  with  their 
old  state  of  starvation,  and  have  implored  to  be  allowed  to  return 
to  Fiji,  and  a  number  of  them  came  back  last  November  in  the  big 
British-India  steamship  Chenab.  May  this  prove  an  augury  of  a 
happier  state  of  affairs,  and  that  the  Indians  will  realise  how  well  off 
they  can  be  in  Fiji.  Should  they  resume  coming  in  numbers  it  will 
be  profoundly  interesting  to  watch  their  spread  and  development  in 
the  South  Sea  groups,  which  offer  such  splendid  chances  to  the 
overcrowded  and  poverty-stricken  masses  of  the  great  peninsula  of 
Hindustan. 

In  justice  to  a  great  many  of  the  Indians  it  should  be  added  that 
the  extremists  coerced  them  into  joining  the  strikes  by  threats  of 


302  The  End  of  the  Way 

death.  Many  of  them,  especially  the  domestic  servants,  were 
deeply  attached  to  their  masters  and  mistresses,  and  although  they 
complied  outwardly  in  the  day  time  with  the  leaders’  orders,  at 
night  they  returned  to  perform  the  household  duties.  Many  of  my 
friends  have  had  Indians  in  their  employ  for  nearly  twenty  years, 
and  those  of  us  who  go  back  to  the  scene  of  our  labours  are  generally 
looked  up  by  their  old  servants,  who  ask  to  be  taken  on  again.  My 
own  cook  was  with  me  for  thirteen  years,  and  I  left  him  established 
upon  a  small  farm.  Now,  alas  !  he  has  gone  the  way  of  all  flesh,  but 
all  who  visited  Nandarivatu  will  remember  the  faithful  Ferdinand 
and  his  great  culinary  skill. 

The  limit  of  space  allowed  me  has,  I  fear,  been  exceeded,  and  I 
must  now  come  to  the  End  of  the  Way.  So,  as  we  say  in  Fiji,  “  Sa 
mothe  yani ,  Saka ,”  which,  as  “  Saka  ”  applies  to  either  sex,  means 
“  Farewell,  ladies  and  gentlemen.” 


Map  of  Fiji  for  “The  Hill  Tribes  of  Fiji.” 

Shewing  Viti  Levu,  the  larger  of  the  two  main  Islands  of  the  Fiji  Group  and  with  insets  of  Tholo  North  &  East  and  the  South  Pacific  Ocean. 


THOLO 
NORTH  <3- El  AST. 


SOLOMOtfO 
ISLANDS  ^ 


& 


CA 

NEwV* 


,-<*a 

ISLANDS. 


Tropic _ _  Cjy>ncorn_ 


SAP 


NE^fzEAi.Awn 


SOUTH 

PACIFIC  OCEAN. 

SHOWINC  riJI  ISLANDS 


VI  T I LEVU 

PROVINCIAL 

BOUNDARIES. — 
TOWNS#  VILLAGESO 
ROADS 

WAY  OF  SPIRITS.... 
SCALE.L  5176LS. 


£jNilng».ni 


INDEX 


Adams,  Capt.,  r.n.,  241 
Adams,  Henry  Quincy,  279,  282,  283 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  279 
Adullam,  A  cave  of,  141 
Adultery,  198 

Adventure,  Jack  London’s,  136 
Aerial  experiments,  215 
Alzelia  Bijuga,  269 
Albino,  290 
Aleferete,  278 
Aleurities  triloba,  94 
Alewa  Kalou,  41.  213 
Allardyce,  Kenneth,  Capt.,  296,  298 
Allardyce,  Sir  William,  115,  135,  148,  260 
Alpinia  Boia,  263 
Ambrose  Ratu,  206 
American  Civil  War,  146 
American  Embassy,  279 
Anaiyasa  or  Ananias,  116,  117,  134,  271,  275, 
282 

Anderson,  Mary,  Miss,  253 
Angatha,  Ro  Ra,  227 
Ansdell,  Messrs.,  60,  118,  119 
Archdeacon,  A  native,  144,  147 
Armed  Native  Constabulary  or  A.N.C.,  34,  41, 
60,  61,  123,  124,  136,  143,  151,  202,  205, 
239,  242,  250,  277,  278,  279,  290 
Army  Service  Corps,  63 
Ashanti,  273 
Asiatic  Archipelago,  85 
Auckland,  61 
Australia,  50,  79,  259 
Australian  Methodist  Society,  144 
Ava,  18 

Baal,  88,  95,  268 
Babylon,  268 
Bacchante,  H.M.S.,  115 
Badges,  floral,  109 

Baker,  T.,  Rev.,  26,  27,  29,  30,  31,  57,  60,  245, 
264 

Ballad  of  the  Flowers,  42 
Bay  of  Islands,  252 
Beauregard,  Gen.,  146 
Bendigo,  151 
Berkeley,  Sir  H.,  241 
Berry,  J.,  The  Hon.,  279,  284 
Balolo,  144 
Birth,  168,  176 

Bishop,  Anglican,  141  ;  Roman  Catholic,  45  ; 

of  Carthagena,  265  ;  Wesleyan,  144 
Bligh,  Capt.,  41,  87 
Boer  War,  165 
Bombay,  41,  42,  87 
Bramble,  Tabitha,  Miss,  194 
Brewster,  William,  282 
Britain,  301 

British  Colony,  300  ;  Consul,  264  ;  Honduras, 
296,  298  ;  Sovereignty,  290,  291 
Brown,  G.,  Rev.  Doctor,  25,  144,  145 


Brownrigg,  Commander,  r.n.,  57 
Burnaby’s  Ride  to  Khiva,  159 
Burns,  Mr.,  32 
Burotu,  254 

Bygone  Religious  Ceremonies,  88,  9 7 

Calcutta,  The  East  Indiaman,  38 
Carew,  W.  S.,  The  Hon.,  19,  48,  49,  52,  63,  66, 
76,  100,  106,  113,  117,  125,  150,  151,  156, 
161,  273,  274,  282,  284 
Cargill,  D.,  Rev.,  37,  104,  259 
Carnarvon,  Earl  of,  209 
Carrington,  Earl,  61 
Carrington,  Rupert,  The  Hon.,  125 
Carthegena,  Bishop  of,  265 
Catholics,  Roman,  45,  141 
Causer  of  Widows,  The,  260 
Central  Government,  277,  291 
Cession,  Deed  of,  290,  291 
Ceylon  road  tracer,  273 
Challenger,  H.M.S.,  56, 1 13 
Champagne,  French  push  in,  297 
Chenab,  s.s.,  301 

Chief  Commissioner  of  Ashanti,  273 

Chief  Constable  of  Nandrau,  288 

Chief  fisherman,  75 

Chief  Justice,  136,  239 

Childhood,  168,  176 

Children  of  the  Hills,  107,  109,  156,  157 

Christianity,  Influence  of,  300 

Christmas  Day,  138 

Church  and  State,  141 

Church  of  Rome,  I4r 

“  Cinderella  ”  of  the  Colonies,  A,  116,  130,  134 
Circumcision,  177,  184 
City  of  the  True  Cross,  265 
Clara,  The  Lady,  126 

Clarke,  Sir  Fielding  and  Lady,  115,  239,  262 
Clyde,  s.s.,  278,  281,  284,  289 
Collet,  Sir  Wilfred,  115 
Colonial  Hospital,  253 

—  Secretary,  115 

—  Service,  My,  114,  115 
Confirmation,  178 
Coolies,  Indian,  139 

Cook,  Captain,  18,  37,  38,  73,  78,  79,  138,  181, 
257 

Corney,  G.  B.,  The  Hon.,  60,  254 
Corona  Club,  116 
Coronation,  King  Edward’s,  295 
Corpus  delicti.  Establishing  the,  33 
Courts,  District,  161  ;  Provincial,  166 
Cow  Moala,  78 
Cricket,  222,  231 

Cross,  William,  Rev.,  37,  140,  259 
Crown  property,  290 
Crown  Colony,  155 

Dancing  place  of  the  rats,  272 
Death,  209,  221 


3°3 


304  Index 


Deed  of  Cession,  290,  292 
Dendrobium  Mohlianum ,  43 
Deoka,  57,  113 
De  Quatrefarge,  89 

Des  Voeux,  Sir  W.  and  Lady,  114,  115,  151 

Devil,  The,  240,  249,  279 

Dido,  H.M.S.,  68 

Dish  of  Stone,  The,  287 

Dissector  of  the  soul,  283,  284 

District  Commissioner,  301 

Divorce,  188-99,  200 

Dravisia,  84 

Dundonald,  Lord,  58 

East  India  Company,  50 
Edward,  H.R.H.  Prince,  115 
Edward,  King,  295 
Egypt,  268 

Elopement,  Great,  294 
Emalu,  86 

End  of  the  Way,  287 

Epeli,  Ratu,  Lieutenant,  62,  281 

Epic  of  Dengei,  256 

Erskine,  Capt.,  r.n.,  76 

Esau,  178 

Esava  Kombiti,  148 

Espiegle ,  H.M.S.,  271 

Evil  of  the  Gods,  274 

Expedition,  Mba,  99,  146 

Fagraea  Berteriana,  109 
Farewell,  Commandant,  205 
Felipe,  45 

Fiji,  141  ;  Constabulary,  124,  130  ;  and  the 
Fijians,  81  ;  Group,  260 ;  Labour  Con¬ 
tingent,  296;  Museum,  260;  Treasures,  17 
Fisher,  Lieutenant,  r.n.,  298 
Foreign  Legion,  29 7 
Fomander,  85,  89 

Fort  Carnarvon,  129,  209,  279,  283,  288,  289, 
296 

France,  296,  297 

Francis,  Cyril,  Capt.,  296 

Friendly  Isles,  37,  49 

Fuller,  Sir  Francis,  k.b.e.,  115,  273 

Gambier,  291,  301 

Gandhi,  291,  296 

Gandinana,  168 

Gau,  Island  of,  148 

George  V.  H.M.,  115 

German  Bounty  System,  133 

Germany,  254 

Ghosts,  209,  221 

Gingy,  288 

Gladiators,  The,  131 

Godland,  Pilgrimage  to,  261,  262 

Gondakoro,  97 

Goodenough,  Commodore,  260 
Gordon,  Sir  A.,  22,  33,  47,  52,  67,  157,  209 
Gordon,  A.  L.,  Mr.,  c.m.g.,  34 
Gospels,  The,  256 

Government,  270  ;  Central,  277  ;  House,  136 

Governor  of  Fiji,  138,  271 

Granville,  Lord,  270 

Great  adventure,  297 

Great  Britain,  254 

Great  Council  of  Chief,  133 

Great  Elopement,  294 

Great  Republic,  282 

Great  War,  291,  296 

Grey,  Sir  George,  224 

Griffiths,  Oliver,  296 

Gungadin,  125 

Gunga,  246 


Haapai,  84 

Hamoa,  79 

Harcourt,  Lord,  116 

Harding,  J.,  Major,  66,  262,  267,  270 

Hauhau,  252 

Havannah,  Cruise  of,  76 

Hawaii,  84 

Henniker-Heaton,  H.,  296 
“  Hewer  of  Earth,”  125 
High  Commissioner,  271 
High  Sheriff,  239 
Hindu  peddlers,  46 
Hindus,  299 

Hindustan,  130,  234,  299,  301 
History  of  a  Slave ,  96 
Hiti,  259 

Holy  of  Holys,  96 

Holy  Mountain,  248,  256 

Holy  Spirit,  Californian  Lily,  256 

Home  Rule,  150,  158,  299 

Hong  Kong,  239 

Horqueta,  265 

Hunt,  J.,  Rev.,  256 

Hutson,  Sir  Eyre,  298 

Ijipita,  268 

Im  Thum,  Sir  Everard,  139,  297,  298 
Independence  Day,  282 

Indian  coolies,  139  ;  immigrants,  299,  300,  301 

Influenza,  Spanish,  189 

Invasion,  181 

Iri  ni  Veli,  88 

Irish  Rifles,  296 

Islands  of  the  Blessed,  269 

Jackson,  Sir  Henry,  297 
Jadu,  224 
Jadugar,  234 
Jamaica,  39 

Jehovah,  240,  259,  262,  268,  270 
Jemesa,  Sergt. -Major,  208 
Jesoni,  Sergt.,  247,  254 
Jewish  ceremony,  177 
Joab,  149 

Johnston,  Sir  Harry,  96 

Jona,  Ratu,  237,  259,  262,  268,  270 

Joram,  161 

Jubilee,  Wesleyan,  259 

Ka,  166,  171 
Kalawa  ni  Mang-a,  260 
Kallicrates,  My  horse,  146 
Kamba,  78,  87 
Kanda,  92 

Kane,  R.  R.,  Capt.,  m.c.,  296 
Karawa,  32 
Karovou,  294 
Kasere,  108,  109,  216,  217 
Katakataimoso,  104 

Kauvandra,  274,  248,  255,  261,  262,  268,  269 

Kava,  2,  106,  169 

Kavitu,  142 

Kelera,  126 

Kerekere,  91,  92 

King  and  people  of  Fiji,  80,  256 

King  of  the  fishes,  291 

Knollys,  Major,  34 

Koli,  166,  167 

Koro,  97,  103 

Korolevaleva,  209 

Kuila  Arieta,  Andi,  188 

Kula,  182,  183,  251 

Kulunandakai,  104 

Kumukumure,  288 

Kuranduandua,  Ro  Joni,  94,  95 


3°5 


Index 


Lafarge,  John,  279,  282,  283 
Lahore  University,  300 
Lambert,  Rowley,  Commodore  Sir,  57 
Lamisa,  247 

Langham,  F.,  Rev.,  145,  179 
Larceny,  198 
Lauthala,  56 
La  vo,  182,  183,  179 
Lawa  Eso,  160 
Lawa  Vakatonga,  49 
Layard,  E.  L.,  Mr.,  c.m.g.,  33 
Lee-Enfield,  The,  277 
Legislative  Council,  284 
Le  Hunte,  Sir  G.,  g. c.m.g.,  115 
Lelean,  C.  O.,  Rev.,  208 
Lemba ,  244 

Lettow-Vorbeck,  von,  296 
Levi,  179 

Levuka,  68,  no,  hi,  136,  138,  139 
Lewadaubati,  186 
Lewatini,  101,  103,  103 
Lewavuku,  186 
Lewayanitu,  100 
Lieut. -Governor,  17,  157,  243 
Life  Immortal,  236 
Lismahago,  Capt.,  194 

44  Little  War,”  Our,  22,  34,  47,  67,  209,  210,  291 
Lizard,  Black,  m,  112  ;  Hairy,  in,  112 
Lomai  Tholo,  65,  169,  242,  261 
London,  H.M.S.,  58,  66 
London  Missionary  Society,  141 
Lord  High  Admiral,  231 
Lord  High  Bowler,  The,  231 
Lost  Legion,  131,  136,  140,  211,  245 
Luve-ni-wai,  222,  223,  224,  225,  226,  227,  228, 
229,  230,  231,  278 


Macgregor,  Sir  William,  114,  138,  230,  266 

Macgregors,  109 

Mackintosh,  31,  32,  48 

Major,  Sir  C.,  135 

Makalini,  166,  167 

Malakai  Navatu,  83,  185,  195,  197 

Malan,  Lieut.,  r.n.,  125 

Malolo,  260 

Mandraiwiwi,  Joni  Ratu,  296 
Maori,  252 

Mariner's  Tonga  Islands,  73 
Marriage,  188,  199,  200 
Marriot,  Alfred,  115,  120 
Marriott,  Sidney,  1,  282 
Martini-Henrys,  149,  277 
Mary,  Lady,  165 
Mata  Na,  38,  182,  183,  185 
Matailombau,  226 
Matanavono,  283 
Mathang-a,  90,  91 
Matanitu,  243,  246,  279 
Matanivanua,  121,  282 
Mataku,  80,  86 
Mathuata,  168,  295 
Matrimony,  201 
Mavua,  79,  80,  82,  84,  105 
Mba,  31,  40,  108,  137,  275,  278,  283,  284,  289, 
301 

Mbaka,  108,  181 
Mbaki,  93 
Mbamba,  134,  135 
Mbau,  145,  165 

Mbau  Mbauans,  48,  64,  151,  184 
Mbeka,  178 
Mbolei,  90 
Mbolo,  108,  178 

Mbomboutho,  65,  66,  75,  83,  89,  94,  108,  168, 
172,  175,  242,  265,  266,  278,  279 


Mboro,  mboro  Taingwane,  169 
Mbose  Vakaturang-a ,  133 

Mbure,  91,  120,  169,  170,  174,  178,  179,  180, 
182 

Mbure  Kalou,  91,  93,  96 
Mburenitu,  136 
Albuturaki,  190 
Meadows,  Taylor,  299 
Measles,  67,  68 

Melanesians,  73,  74,  77,  78,  81,  85,  88,  91,  244, 
258»  259,  260, 

Mekemeke  ni  Kalavo,  273 

Mereone,  Andi,  166 

Methodist  Mission,  144,  145 

Metrosideros  Collina,  42 

Mission  to  Viti,  82 

Missionaries,  Wesleyan,  37,  164 

Mitchell,  Sir  C.,  27,  125,  209,  210,  270 

Moave,  198 

Mohammedans,  299 

Moli,  174,  175,  182 

Mombasa,  57 

Mongoose  pest,  The,  142,  179,  265 
Motonoko,  275,  285 
Muaira,  280 

Naikasau,  124,  125,  126,  129,  274,  277,  289, 
293,  227,  229,  239,  249,  250,  271 
Nailenga,  65,  233,  257 
Naiova,  108 

Nairukuruku,  147,  148,  186,  220,  259,  262 
Naisilisi-li,  173 
Naitasiri,  52,  58,  62,  in,  188 
Naivaka-nawanawa ,  256 
Naivuthini,  273,  274 
Nakalasambaria,  240,  255 
Nakauvandra,  42,  82,  83,  240,  254,  255,  287 
Nakorovatu,  113,  116,  120,  226,  228,  239 
Nakorosuli,  107,  128,  280 
Nakumbululevu,  80 
Nakuru,  97 
Nalawa,  66 
Nalawatawa,  86 
Na  Mata,  38,  183,  185 
Namatakula,  283,  284 
Namaururu,  102 
Namboro,  in,  112 
Nambuethandra,  126,  127,  128,  132 
Nandarivatu,  26,  40,  42,  43,  44,  60,  79,  108, 
142,  202,  216,  275,  277,  278,  284,  285,  287, 
288,  289,  290,  291,  292,  294,  295,  296,  297, 
298 

Nandavelevu,  74 

Nandrau,  29,  74,  129,  132,  166,  288,  290 
Nandronga,  41-73,  78,  184,  301 
Nandurulolo,  49,  113,  209,  273 
Nangarawai,  65 
Nang-atang-ata,  101,  250 
Nang-one-ni-tholo,  107 
Nanukuloa,  284 
Napoleon  Ratu,  50,  62,  64 
Naroyaso,  104 

Narokorokoyawa,  67,  96,  97,  134,  137,  160, 
161,  273,  275,  278,  236,  250,  261,  270,  285 
Nasongo,  43,  44,  89,  90,  108,  135,  142,  174,  175, 
214,  216,  217,  281,  283 
Nasorovakawalu,  64 
Natha,  135 
Nathanikalou,  274 
Nathilau,  81,  240 
Nathirikaumoli,  240,  255 
Nathola-uli,  126,  127,  128,  129,  132 
Native  Lieut. -Governor,  295  ;  Regulations,  48 
133,  160,  203,  229,  230,  233  ;  Stipendiary 
Magistrate,  70,  160,  161  ;  Technical  School, 
292 


306  Index 


Natuatuathoko,  209,  210 
Natunu,  286 
Nausori,  46,  246 
Naveiyaraki,  101 
Navindulu,  104 

Navosavakandua,  97,  237,  238,  240,  241,  243, 
244,  245,  252,  253,  261,  270,  27S 
Navua  River,  40 
Navula,  87 
Ndala,  290 

Ndaravakawalu,  274,  285 
Ndavelevu,  2,  34 
Ndavutukia  tribe,  82 
Ndawa  ( Nephelium  pinnata ),  117 
Ndeng-ei,  42,  80,  81,  82,  83,  84,  85,  86  9 7,  249, 
250,  255,  258,  259,  268,  269,  270 
Ndotig-ai ,  198 
Ndoongumoy,  240 
Ndorokavu,  258 
Ndrausa,  102,  103 
Ndruindrui,  267 
New  Hebrides,  82,  140,  260 
New  Ireland,  22 
New  Religion,  A,  249 
New  Year’s  Day,  91 

New  Zealand,  42,  50,  61,  79,  155,  224,  252 
Nganga ,  96 

Nineteen  Years  in  Polynesia ,  82 
Noemalu,  67,  68,  86,  95,  96,  105,  106,  109,  124, 
126,  134,  168,  181,  190,  195,  19 7,  251,  278 
Noikoro,  86,  95,  100,  104,  105,  179,  181,  250 
Nukulau,  56 
Nukuvura,  86 
Numbukalou,  62 
Numbutautau,  101,  289 

O’Brien,  Frederick,  257 
—  Sir  George,  155, 156,  228,  287,  293,  297 
Ogea,  83 

“  Oliliva  Oliva,”  252 
Onslow,  Earl  of,  61 
Osprey,  no,  in,  11x2 
Ovalau,  no,  m,  120 
Overland  Mail,  209,  221 

Pacific  Cable,  46 

Panchayet,  299 

Pandanus  odoratissimus,  81 

Papiloni,  268 

Paradise,  251,  252,  288 

Parliament,  Annual,  285 

Paula,  132 

Pearl,  260 

Penelope,  277 

Peni  Ratu,  243,  244 

Phallic,  89 

Phanuel,  223 

Phoebe,  207 

Piache,  224 

Pigs,  17,  19,  20,  21,  156,  157,  158 
Pilgrim's  Progress ,  148 
Piper  Methysticum,  17 
Polygamy,  163,  164,  168 

Polynesian,  77,  78,  84,  85,  88,  100,  105,  151, 
179,  181,  185,  190,  199,  225,  255,  258,  259; 
Mythology,  224 
Pomare,  Queen,  165 
Pool  of  the  Albino,  290 
Poore,  Admiral  Sir  Richard,  298 
Powerful,  H.M.S.,  298 
Primogeniture,  168,  169 
Prisons,  Superintendent  of,  239 
Prophet,  The,  245 

Provincial  Council,  150,  152,  155,  157,  261, 
273  ;  Court,  160 


Prowse,  Capt.,  r.n.,  298 
Pylades,  H.M.S.,  241 


Qaloqalo,  84,  85,  251 
Qelcndina,  91,  93 
Quithatamhua,  86 

Queen’s  Pass,  Tambalc  ni  Ranandi,  40,  42,  292 
Queen  Victoria,  151  ;  Birthday,  285 
Quccti  Mary,  H.M.S.,  298 


Ra,  42,  245,  268,  275,  278,  294 
Ra  Province,  246,  247,  254,  261,  284 
Rakiraki,  81,  90,  247,  270,  283,  294 
Ranandi,  298 
Rara ,  192 
Ratu,  75,  148 

Ratu  Joni  Mandraiwiwi,  296 
Ratu  Lala  Sukuna,  296 
Ratu  Veli,  276 
Reay,  W.  C.,  270 
Regulations,  Native,  48,  203 
Renard ,  H.M.S.,  66 

Resident  Commissioner,  47,  48,  51,  54,  55,  76, 
161,  165 

Resident  Commissioner  Tholo  West,  278,  288; 
Tholo  North,  278,  288 

Rewa,  38,  40,  50,  97,  hi,  153,  184,  224,  225, 
244,  257  ;  River,  256,  267,  268,  279 
Rewasau,  108 
Road  Boards,  276 
Roadmaking,  273 
Robinson,  Sir  Hercules,  68 
Rock  of  Refuge,  80 
Rokola,  240,  249,  255,  257,  269 
Roko  Lemba,  258 
Roko  of  Ra,  296 
Roko  Tui,  157,  243 
Roko  Tui  Kandavu,  17 
Roko  Tui  Mathuata,  295 
Roko  Tui  Suva,  206 
Roko  Tui  Vuna,  68,  104 
Roko  Ua,  90 
Roma,  268 

Romilly,  Hugh  Hastings,  201 

Rong-o-Voka,  90 

Rosemeade,  Lord,  68 

Ross,  J.  K.  M.,  Mr.,  i.s.o.,  138,  139 

Rotumah,  246 

Royal  Fishermen,  165 

Ruku,  91,  92,  93,  95 

Rukuruku,  94,  95 

Russell,  W.  C.,  The  Hon.,  296 

Sabbath,  144,  145 

Sacred  Mount,  240,  268,  287 

Sailose  Ratu,  253,  254 

Saimone,  288 

Sakiusa  Ratu,  205 

Samoa,  78,  82,  84,  165 

Samuela,  290 

Santa  Cruz,  260 

Saturnalia,  92,  93 

Saukiyata,  103 

Sautoka,  156 

Savaii,  84 

Savatu,  108 

Sawanikula,  112 

School  for  Scandal,  204 

Scribe,  District,  161 

Secretary  of  State  for  the  Colonies,  240 

Seddon,  Richard,  the  Rt.  Hon.,  155 

Seeman,  Berthold,  Dr.,  f.l.s.,  f.r.c.s.,  82 

Senimili,  The  Lady,  164 

Serea,  225,  226,  227,  228,  230 


307 


Index 


Seru  Ro,  19,  52,  53,  66,  220 
Serua,  86 

Seventh  Day  Adventists,  141,  142 

Shaddock,  174 

Sharpe,  Sir  Alfred,  115 

Siliandrau,  m 

Simeon,  179 

Simla,  271 

Simon  Badboy,  107,  156,  157,  280 
Sina,  92,  95 

Singatoka  River,  34,  38,  40,  73,  79,  266,  267, 
289 

Solanum  Anthropophagorum,  29,  74 

Solevu  ni  vila  vou,  94 

Soloira,  66,  203,  225,  226,  228 

Solomon  Islanders,  33,  136,  296 

Song  of  the  Trade  Wind,  292 

Sorcery,  222,  232 

South  Africa,  155 

South  Sea  Yarns,  221 

South  Seas,  300,  301 

Spanish  Influenza,  189 

“  Spell  of  the  Plantain,”  234 

Spiers,  31,  32,  48 

Spirits’  Way,  287 

Stipendiary  Magistrate,  47,  54,  117 
Stone  dish,  287 
Stuart,  James,  296 
Subawhal,  B.  R.,  Mr.,  300 
Sukuna,  Lala  Ratu,  296,  297 
Supreme  Court,  47,  71 

Suva,  25,  42,  44,  56,  65,  no,  136,  275,  278,  279, 
284 

Sweeper  of  the  Way,  101,  289 
Taema,  82,  84 

Tahiti,  18,  78,  165,  282,  259 

Tailevu,  176 

Taivou,  113 

Tako,  182,  183 

Talatala-i-taukei,  144 

Tama,  no,  151,  152 

Tama-nui-ki-te-Rangi,  225 

Tambale  ni  Ranandi ,  40,  43 

Tambua,  17,  19,  20,  22,  23,  24,  25,  27,  28,  96 

Tamunamuna,  240,  257,  258 

Tanganyika,  96,  97 

Tanoa,  Ratu  Peni,  243,  244 

Taranga,  235 

Tasmania,  Governor  of,  148 

Tathu  luvena,  168,  172,  173,  175 

Tattoo,  184,  187 

Tau,  183 

Taukei,  287 

Tavaiyalo,  283,  284 

Tavua,  241,  275,  279,  284,  290,  291,  294,  295 
297,  300 

Tavua-i-Tholo,  34 
Tawa,  267 
Te  Kooti,  252 
Telatha,  180,  260 
Telephone  Line,  293 

Thakombau,  King,  25,  31,  33,  38,  50,  52,  62, 
63,  71,  123,  236,  243,  264,  267 
Thawanisa,  267 
Thelua,  178 
Thina,  92,  95 
Thoko,  214 

Tholo,  25,  45,  46,  47,  113,  168,  175,  198,  220, 
226,  273;  East,  48,  65,  114,  117,  118,  124, 
125,  145,  147,  151,  152,  153,  155,  156,  176, 
209,  228,  246,  262,  274,  278,  286,  295,  296  ; 
North,  26,  60,  117,  142,  150,  153,  155,  216, 
254,  255>  260,  284,  291  ;  West,  126,  129,  209, 
262,  264,  278,  283,  288  ;  Kai,  25 
Thomson,  Sir  Basil,  115,  209,  221,  256 


Thula,  51 
Thumbu,  32 

Thurn,  im,  Sir  Everard  and  Lady,  139,  297,  298 
Thurston,  Sir  John  and  Lady,  28,  39,  57,  58,  89, 
114,  117,  129,  136,  155,  178,  210,  243,  255, 

262,  277,  279,  282,  283,  284,  285,  290,  29 7 
Tiglath  Pileser,  208 

Tilaifainga,  82 
Tinai  ni  Tambua,  23 
Toko,  192 

Toma,  no,  151,  152,  183 
Tomo,  137 

Tomanivei,  39,  262,  263,  265,  266,  292 
Tombayawene,  95,  101,  102,  257 
Tombu  ni  Rea,  290 

Tonga,  37,  49,  72,  73,  77,  78,  82,  83,  84,  258 

Tongiaki,  258 

Totem,  109,  no 

Totemism,  Everyday,  105,  112 

Trade  Wind,  Song  of,  292 

Trinidad,  297 

Tripp,  H.  L.,  245 

Tui  Talandrau,  105 

Tui  Na  Theva,  229 

Tuithake,  80 

Tuitharatharasala,  101,  289 
Tui  Tonga  Levu,  82 
Tui  Ung-ura,  86 
Tui  Waikalou,  227 

Tuka,  220,  223,  228,  236,  242,  243,  244,  245, 
246,  247,  248,  252,  253,  254,  258,  259,  261, 

263,  265,  266,  270,  273,  278,  280 
Tuleita,  42,  287,  288,  289 

Tumbi  Joseva  Bembe,  178,  179,  185,  186 

Tunakauvandra,  105 

Tunindau,  75 

Turang-a-ni-Valu,  123 

Turner’s  Nineteen  Years  in  Polynesia,  82 

Turtle,  291  ;  fishing,  75 

Turukawa,  255,  256,  270 

Tuva,  79,  82,  84 

Tuvou,  101,  102 

Udal,  J.  S.,  The  Hon.,  228 

Uganda,  97 

Ultimus  Haeres,  290 

Uluinatheva,  Ratu  Jona,  39,  148 

LJlui  Vikatoria,  40 

Ului  Viti,  266 

Vlumatua,  172,  195 

Ulunda, 269 

Ulu  toa,  92 

Umani,  172,  195,  196 

Undu,  66,  70,  in,  128,  236,  237,  238,  239,  242, 
243,  261,  279,  280,  285 
Ung-onetha  (Simon),  107 
Uniform  Date  Ordinance,  77 
United  States,  141  ;  Exploring  Expedition,  260 
Union  Jack,  266,  279 

Vaileka,  270 

Vakavuvuli,  143,  229,  237,  262 

Vaka-nananawa,  258 

Vakatawa,  144 

Vandranasing-a,  95,  101 

Vanua  Levu,  41,  87,  168,  251,  292 

Vatusila,  27,  29,  95-100,  101,  102,  104,  105 

Vatuvula,  298 

Veli,  88,  89,  223,  228,  230 

Veli  Ratu,  277,  293,  295 

Venereal  disease,  199 

V ere,  94 

Victoria,  Mount,  40,  66,  74,  82,  89,  134,  142, 
197,  210,  256,  261,  262,  264,  265,  281,  283, 
290,  292 

Victoria,  Queen,  151,  166,  253,  254,  283 


308  Index 


Vieille  roche,  91 
Viking,  Polynesia,  255 
Vila  Vou,  94 

Vilaiwasa,  Andi,  83,  84,  268 
Vilavilaircvo ,  258 
Viria,  225,  226,  269,  276,  298 
Visina,  04,  95 
Viti,  258,  271 

Vitian  or  Fijian  Islands,  82 
Viti  Lcvu,  17,  25,  32,  37,  38,  39,  56,  72,  78,  79, 
80,  81,  86,  87,  90,  105,  109,  255,  260,  262, 
263,  270,  278,  279,  284 
Viti  Levu  Bay,  56,  64,  136,  260 
Vitong-o,  94 
Vive,  207 
Viwa,  259 
Vondivondi,  99 
Vosa,  264 

Voula,  253,  254,  258 
Vuanangumu,  106,  107 
Vunda,  81,  86,  87 
Vung-ala,  268 
Vunilolo,  94 
Vunimborabo,  180 

Vunindawa,  113,  116,  119,  124,  126,  127,  128, 

134,  136,  143,  144,  147,  148,  209,  225,  226, 

227,  228,  233,  238,  242,  245,  258,  261,  262, 

270,  271,  279,  284,  285,  286 
Vuninduvu,  222,  226,  228 
Vunisukau,  262,  263,  281 
Vuniwai,  182 

Vuramothb ,  114,  117,  126,  262,  270,  271 
Vuthang-o,  238 
Vuthang-o,  Ro,  67,  68,  106 
Vuthang-o,  of  Muira,  160 

Waia,  41 

Wai-indina,  64,  113 

Waikumbukumbu,  277,  294 

Wailoa,  66,  hi,  126,  128,  236,  237,  238,  281 

Wailiwaliwa,  90 


Waimaro,  Queen  of,  23 
Wainamu,  96,  251 

Wainimala,  38,  56,  65,  66,  68,  107,  nr,  112, 
115,  126,  127,  160,  225,  236,  270,  273,  275, 
280 

Wainimbuka,  56,  66,  84,  90,  113,  157,  256,  257, 
267,  268,  270,  284 
Wainunu,  231 
VVaisomo,  280 

Wallington,  Sir  Edward,  115 
Wangatanga,  82 
Wana,  226,  282,  290 
Washington,  272 

Water  Babies,  Fijian,  222,  223,  225 

Waterhouse,  Joseph,  Rev.,  80,  256 

Water  of  Twins,  289 

Watisoni,  50 

Way,  End  of  the,  287 

Way,  Spirits’,  The,  287 

Wesleyan  Mission,  37,  140,  142,  143,  200,  247, 
254,  259,  262 

Western  Pacific,  31,  257,  271,  300 
West  Indies,  265 
Whyte,  Melville,  131 
Wilkes,  Commodore,  260 
Williams,  Thomas,  Rev.,  81 
Witchcraft,  46,  75,  222,  232,  235 
Women,  Fijian,  159-67 
Woodford,  C.,  Mr.,  c.m.g.,  136 

Yangona,  ij,  19,  106,  138,  141,  143,  145,  157, 
169,  267,  286  ;  bowls,  179 
Yalatina,  31,  101-107,  185,  187,  221,  255 
Yasawa  Islands,  41,  42 
Yambaki,  93 
Yavou,  179,  1 81,  182 
Yasawa,  278 
Yanawai,  292 
Yendu,  32 

Zanzibar,  58 


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